


Season Two

by VenomQuill



Series: Relatively Speaking- Gravity Falls [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 8-Ball - Freeform, 88 Different Faces!, Agent Powers - Freeform, Agent Trigger - Freeform, Aliens Crash Sight Omega, Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, Authors turn characters into puppets, Celestabellebethabelle - Freeform, Cowboys, Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Dutch, F/M, French, Gen, Girlfriend repellant, Granny sweetkin's Yarnball, Hectorgon - Freeform, I'm Bill Cipher in disguise, I'm a dirty shipper help, Keyhole, Knights - Freeform, Log Land, M/M, Mystery Mountain, Oh what the heck it's Xanthar, Pirates, Sergei - Freeform, Shifty - Freeform, Stanford shouldn't have a pet in the original show because shifty? Who names their pet shifty?, Teeth, The Being Whose Name Should Never Be Said, The entire US Government probably, This is my life now, Time Paradox Enforcement Squad, Time Police, Time baby, Upside-Down Town, agent dundgren, agent lolph, amorphous shape - Freeform, big dipper, big henry, corn maze, eye-bats - Freeform, franz - Freeform, gabe benson - Freeform, he won gold!, head knight, kryptos - Freeform, lava-shaped demon, lilliputtians - Freeform, miners, old miner, pirate captain - Freeform, polly - Freeform, puns, pyronica - Freeform, should gabe be here?, sock puppet dan, sock puppet fiddleford, sock puppet mabel, sock puppet stanford, sock puppet stanley, that creature with like 87 different faces, unicorn boys, you're my puppet now!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 146,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Welcome to SEASON TWO!Monsters, demons, spirits, bullies, animals, people, the infinite universe! Space and time! Season One was gumdrops and pixie dust and wondrous discoveries. Like the Author, let's transition from the marvelous wonders and beasts of Gravity Falls to its ugly dark side of curses, magic, and unholy beasts. Let's just... refrain from going insane or forgetting ourselves this time, okay? I'll try not to go too crazy......maybe.





	1. Scary-Oke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bud has been put behind bars and Gideon, under scrutiny of the public, can no longer fight. To the Pines family, this is a major cause of celebration. When the government shows up searching for peculiar activity, it seems to be Stanford's big break. But when Grauntie Mabel sends away the agents and tells Stanford never to call them, will Stanford stay the obedient, loyal boy he's always been or will he allow his frustration to blind him?

          _Creeeek… creeeek…_ The question mark weather vane creaked back and forth in its indecision. After all, there was little in the way of wind that night. The nighttime animals kept their distance from the old Mystery Shack. Every few seconds, the Shack would shutter like a dollhouse after a kid stomped on the ground next to it. The twin boys, Stanley and Stanford, didn’t wake up from their much-needed sleep. Even when the cracks in their floorboard flashed a very bright blue, neither of them woke. Gompers opened his eyes after a particularly bright flash of light. However, his own exhaustion caused him to simply set his head back down and go back to sleep.

          Underneath the Shack, the third human occupant was awake and alert. Grauntie Mabel, dressed in her night clothes decorated by a pig, stood with her hands on her hips in front of the triangle shaped machine. Its center frothed and glowed like a witch’s pot and its runes shined.

           “Thirty long years, and it’s all led up to this. My greatest achievement!” Her smile widened as she looked at the portal before her. “Normally I’d say I should have worn clothes. But he’ll disapprove either way.” Electricity burst from the frothing circle of light. Mabel gasped and raised an arm in front of her to shield her face. She patted down a lick of fire on her shoulder and straightened up again. “Hehe… feisty, aren’t you?”

          She walked back into the all-too-familiar control room and sat down. After she flicked a few switches, a panel above her opened. A digital screen blinked to life. Boxes with symbols flickered on. “AUTO SCAN” flickered over the screen for a moment before falling away to reveal pages of symbols. “If I finally pull this off, it’ll all have been worth it!” Outside, the machine jittered and sparked with more fervor. Behind her, pages of ones and zeroes were being printed out of a machine. “0.0000000000% COMPLETE” shown on the screen above the printing paper.

          She set her hand on one of the three journals, all of which were open to the page concerning the triangle machine. A blue portable reading light shown over it. “Okay, Mabel. Just keep playing it cool. If anyone ever found out about this…” Her gaze drifted to the picture frame on her desk. Stanley held down Stanford in a headlock while Stanford stuck his tongue out at him. The two laughed and smiled. For a moment, her smile faltered. She shook her head and chuckled. “Yeah, right. Who could catch me now?” Grauntie Mabel fitted a yellow glove and then yanked down a switch labeled “MAX POWER”.

          The blinding light set the entire town aglow in blue light. Dan, his window and shades open to bring in a breeze, winced at the sudden light. Gideon, asleep in his bed, opened one eye. Bud, in the bottom bunk of his cell, twitched and woke with a start. The twins upstairs shuttered, but made no other motions of waking up.

          In outerspace, a satellite twitched and turned as the sudden spike of energy was caught and focused upon.

 

          _Beeeep! Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!_ Mabel jerked awake, a paper stuck to her chin. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the alarm that now blared. 7:00 a.m. She turned off the alarm. “Oh, right. Show time.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel, dressed in her baby blue suit and hot pink shooting star fez, stood on the counter of the Gift Shop. Stanley and Stanford stood beside her. Grauntie Mabel announced, “Thank you for coming! Welcome to the grand re-opening of the Mystery Shack!” The crowd clapped. “Thank you! We’re here to celebrate the defeat of that little skunk, Bud!” Grauntie Mabel picked up the last plush of Bud that hadn’t been destroyed in some way. The crowd booed. “Please, please… boo harder!” Grauntie Mabel encouraged. The crowd booed louder. She laughed and set down the toy. She set her hands on the twins’ shoulders and knelt behind them. “Ah but I didn’t catch the guy alone. These little twerps deserve some of the glory.” Stanley elbowed her. “Oof! Haha! Okay! _Most_ of the glory!”

           “Smile for the camera!” Thompson Determined announced and held up a cinderblock made to look like a camera.

          Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Thompson, that’s a cinderblock.”

          Thompson lowered the camera and hung his head. “I just want to be a part of things.”

          Shandra Jimenez stepped forward. The cameraman held up the camera above Shandra’s shoulder. “Smile for a _real_ camera.”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Everyone say ‘something stupid’!”

           “Something stupid!” Stanford put a hand to his neck as if being choked. Mabel put her hands to her face and stuck out her tongue. Stanley waved his hands in a grand gesture. The camera flashed.

          Stanley picked up a black poster. “AFTER PARTY” was written in black on top of a pink spatter stain. A few police-tape lines of text fell under it. “PARTY” “NOT FREE” “MUSIC!” were some of the lines. “Don’t forget to come to the after party tonight at eight!”

          Grauntie Mabel picked up a pink, glittery karaoke machine from behind the counter. “We’re doing a karaoke bonanza, people! Lights! Music! Enchantment!” She held up a handful of confetti and blew on it. She pulled out a paper with a drawn picture of Stanley, Stanford, and Grauntie Mabel, all holding mics and wearing matching colorful outfits. “And don’t miss a live performance from the family band: ‘Love Patrol Alpha’!”

           “I never agreed to that,” Stanley was quick to cut in.

           “…yeah, I don’t know.” Stanford shook his head.

           “Too late! Your names are on the list!” Grauntie Mabel giggled, her voice pitched by excitement.

          Dan opened the door and blew on a foghorn. “Buy a ticket, people! You know you don’t have anything else going on in your lives!” He led them outside, hand in the air and voice raised so that everyone could hear him. “Come on! Tonight’s going to be killer!”

          Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Stanford jumped off the countertop. Grauntie Mabel leaned on the counter. “Ah, would you look at that. The town likes us again, we finally got that Gideon smell out of the carpet. Everything is finally going our way.”

          Stanford looked up at her. “Hey, uh, Grauntie Mabel? Now that we have a moment, I’ve been meaning to ask you for my journal back.”

           “Journal?” she echoed. “What…? Oh!” She chuckled and pulled it out from under the table. “You mean this old thing! Ah it was so boring I could hardly finish it.”

          Stanford took the old journal. “So, you’re giving it back to me? Just like that?”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Yeah, of course! …is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” She prompted, a sly smile creeping up on her features.

           “Oh! No.” Stanford shook his head and put the journal away. “You, uh, seemed upset about it.”

          Grauntie Mabel waved her hand. “Don’t take it personally, Fordsy! We were having a rough day. I know you’re smart enough to stay out of trouble.”

           “Um, okay. Thank you!” Stanford took Stanley’s hand and ran up the stairs.

 

          Once they were in their room in the attic, Stanford let go of his brother and locked the door, pulled down the blinds, and turned around a monster figurine on the dresser so that it wasn’t facing them. He finished by turning on the electric lamp.

           “Stanley, we need to talk. Almost losing my journal made me realize that we’re halfway through the summer, and we’re _still_ no closer to figuring out the big mysteries of Gravity Falls!” He looked at a cork board pinned with pictures and objects all relating to the town, Gideon, the journal, Mystery Shack, and Bill. “Bud almost destroyed the town to get his hands on this journal. But _why?_ ” Stanford, journal held tight in his hands, paced around the bedroom. “Who wrote it? Where are the other journals? What was Bill talking about when he said ‘everything was going to change’?” He stopped pacing and turned to Stanley. “There’s something _huge_ going on _right_ under our noses. It’s time to stop goofing around and get to the bottom of it.”

          Stanley shook his head. “Bro, we’ve looked through that thing a million times before. You’ve been studying it all summer. There’s literally nothing left to discover. Half the pages are blank, remember?” He gestured to the journal.

          Stanford turned to about the halfway mark of the book where pages were empty and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Urg! It feels like I’m missing just _one_ puzzle piece! We’re one clue away from discovering the secrets of Gravity Falls!”

          Stanley perked up. “Did you hear that?”

          Outside, a jet black, long car pulled into the Mystery Shack parking lot. “US GOVERNMENT” was written along the sides with an eagle wielding a magnifying glass symbol under it. The license plate, reading “USEXEMPT” with the smaller words “GOVERNMENT ISSUE” under it glinted in the light. A red sticker labeled “HONK IF YOU WANT TO BE ARRESTED” stuck to the bumper. Two men in perfect black suits and sunglasses stepped out of the driver and passenger seat and turned to the Mystery Shack.

          Fiddleford looked out the window. “Grauntie Mabel? What was that thing I was supposed to say when I see a government vehicle?”

           “Wait, what?” Grauntie Mabel ran to the window and looked outside. “Government vehicle?” Her eyes went round and she shut the window. She raced to one end of the store and clicked a button. “I’m sorry, but the Mystery Shack is now closing. Please move out! Leave any unpurchased items here! Now!” The crowd shuffled out.

          Stanley and Stanford ran down the stairs. “Grauntie Mabel, what’s happening?” Stanford asked.

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, you never shut down the gift shop early.” Dan wandered into the middle of the gift shop next to Fiddleford. Grauntie Mabel fidgeted with one of the buttons on her shirt.

          The doorbell rang and a knock came at the door.

          Grauntie Mabel opened the door with a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack, gentlemen! Can we get you anything?”

          The two men took out their IDs. The sandy blonde on the left didn’t move a muscle out of place. The dark haired one with a goatee stated, “My name is Agent Powers and this is Agent Trigger.” They put away their IDs. “We’ve come here to investigate reports of mysterious activity in this town.”

          Agent Trigger agreed in a tight voice, “Activity!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Mysterious activity? At the Mystery Shack? You’ve got to be joking!”

          Agent Powers stared at her with a straight face. “I assure you I am not. I was born with a rare disorder that made me physically incapable of experiencing humor.” Grauntie Mabel laughed again, though it was not as light as her usual laughter. “I don’t understand the sound you’re making with your mouth. Now if you’ll excuse us, we are conducting an investigation.”

          Mabel stepped aside as the two men walked in. Agent Trigger narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. “Investigation.” He followed his partner into the gift shop.

           “Wait!” Stanford raced up to Agent Powers. “Did you guys say you’re investigating the mysteries of this town?” Grauntie Mabel’s eyes went wide.

          Agent Powers stated, “That information is classified.” He got down on one knee so that he could see Stanford at eye level. “But, yes. Look. Between you and me, I believe there is a conspiracy of paranormal origin all connected to this town. We’re just one small lead away from blowing the lid off this entire mystery.”

          Stanford grinned and set a hand on his head. “I’m investigating the exact same thing! I found this journal in the woods which has almost all the answers. If we work together, we could crack the case!”

          Agent Powers looked back at Agent Trigger. Agent Trigger didn’t move an inch to give away any emotion or decision. Agent Powers looked at Stanford. “If you have any evidence of this claim,” Agent Powers took out a card and gave it to Stanford. “-we should talk.” The plain white card was dominated by the eagle with the magnifying glass in a circle sign. “AGENT POWERS” was written under that with a phone number under that. Agent Powers stood up.

           “We could talk right now!” Stanford offered and then waved his hand. “P-please, Come in! I have _so_ much to show you–!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, agents. The kid has a huge imagination. If there was anything I could help you with, I won’t hesitate to give that number a call. But this sort of stuff–aliens and paranormal activity–just helps sell more tickets, you know?” She looked down at Fiddleford.

          Fiddleford ran up and patted a “MYSTERY SHACK” sticker on their shirts before retreating again.

           “We have other spots to investigate,” Agent Powers stated. “We’ll be on our way.” He turned and walked off.

          Agent Trigger swiped an armful of Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. “I’m confiscating this for evidence.”

           “Smart move,” Agent Powers complimented as they left.

          Stanford gasped. “Wait! No, we have so much to talk about!”

          Grauntie Mabel tightened her grip on his shoulder when he tried to run off. “Hold it, kiddo.” Stanford stopped and looked up at her. Grauntie Mabel let go of him and leaned on the vending machine, which up until that point was open. “Trust me on this, the last thing you want at the party are the police. Now, I’m confiscating that card.” She plucked the card out of his hands. Stanford gasped. “Now, go off and be a normal kid for a while, ‘kay? Skip a stone, flirt with a girl. Steal a pie off a window sill, I dunno.” She picked up a cardboard box labeled “Contraband Box”, dropped the card in it, and walked into the living room.

           “B-but Grauntie Mabel! You don’t understand!” Stanford tried running after her.

           “And don’t go talking to those agents!” Grauntie Mabel warned. The door to the living room swung shut behind her.

          Stanford sighed and took out the journal. “That could have been my big break!”

           “Bro, maybe Grauntie Mabel is right,” Stanley offered and took the book from him. He opened it to a random page, which was over zombies. “We’re throwing a _party_ tonight, man! Can’t you go one night without looking for aliens or raising the dead?”

           “I’m not going to raise the dead,” Stanford reassured him. “I just need a chance to show those agents this journal!”

          Fiddleford walked up beside him. “That can wait until tomorrow, right, Ford? Let’s get stuff ready for the party.”

          Dan smirked. “’sides, that stuff she said about being a kid is good advice. Enjoy it while you can. Man, I’d kill to be a kid again. Heh.”

 

          Nighttime fell over them. Decorations sprang over the entirety of the yard. Streamers flew from place to place. Glitter and silly string and confetti littered the ground and stage. Fiddleford adjusted a bowl of nachos on the table. Grauntie Mabel stood at the podium and fiddled with a large, pink, glittery canon in her arms. The thing went off with a _poof!_ Stanley yelled in surprise as the confetti canon fired at him.

           “Well! The confetti cannon works!” Grauntie Mabel announced and then cooed over the karaoke machine. The colorful boombox sewn into her lavender shirt glinted in the light. A flower bloomed from the strap around her hair and musical notes hung on her ears as earrings. Waddles oinked as he gnawed on the mic. “And the karaoke machine has all the best songs! ‘We Built This Township on Rock and Roll,’ ‘Danger Lane to Highway Town,’ ‘Taking Over Midnight’ by &ndra!” She took the mic away from the old pig with a broad smile.

          Stanley chuckled, “Grauntie Mabel, you don’t want to hear this voice sing.”

           “Lee, karaoke is not about sounding good. It’s about sounding terrible, together!”

          A few yards away, Dan finished hanging up a black light above the party posters Stanford just set up. Dan laughed. “Hey, Ford! Check it out! This blacklight makes my teeth look scary.” He grinned and turned on the black light. Although most of his face dimmed under the hard purple light, his teeth glowed. “Come on, Ford! You love it.”

          Stanford sighed and shook his head. “It’s just not fair. I finally meet someone who can help crack this mystery, and Grauntie Mabel took away their card.”

          Dan looked about and lowered his voice. “Okay, so, I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m pretty sure Mabel hides pretty much everything in her room.”

          Stanford rested his elbow on one hand and set his chin in the other. “If I do that, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

          Dan nodded. “You, you’re right. You would.” He set a party hat on Stanford’s head. “That’s what risks are for.”

 

          Fiddleford finally set up the last piñatas, which were shaped like stars, in a pyramid on a table. “These are going to be so fun to smash open!”

           “SMASH!” Nicolas launched himself into the table, throwing both the table and half dozen piñatas everywhere. A few split. Nick, dressed up in goofy party clothes, jumped to his feet. “Nick has entered the party!”

          Hank stashed away a few pieces of candy and set the three surviving piñatas on the table after he and Fiddleford righted it. “Heh. These stars look delicious.”

           “Guys!” Stanley ran away from the stage and appeared before them.

           “Hey, Lee!” Nick greeted. “You thought you were going to throw us into that ticket line, were you?”

           “Definitely not, man,” Stanley denied and picked up a piece of candy.

          Hank looked at Grauntie Mabel, who was talking avidly with Grenda. She pressed a button on the boombox on her sweater. Music immediately played and caused the two to dance on stage. “Your great aunt is a lot of things, Lee, and being able to throw a party is one of them.”

           “One of many,” Stanley agreed.

 

          Outside, in the parking lot, cars parked and people filtered in. Toby, walking in front of the teens, looked about. “Aw, I thought this was going to be a rave.”

          Nate smirked. “Then take off your shirt and make it a rave!”

           “I’ll do anything for your approval!” Toby yelled and took off his shirt and jacket. A green glow stick patted his chest. Greg’s phone flashed. “Aw, hey…”

           “I promise I won’t send it to anyone.” Greg pressed a button labeled “SEND ALL”.

          Grauntie Mabel sat at the ticket stand, taking in money as it was given to her. Lazy Susan strolled past, a pie in her hand. “Who’s got one good eye and one good pie?”

           “Tough Girl” Wendy lugged two giant kegs of meat over her shoulders. “These kegs are full of _meat!_ ”

          Tyler handed Mabel money, though he kept his gaze on his phone and laughed. “Greg sends me the craziest texts!”

          Mabel set the money in the box on the table. “The whole town is showing up!” Her smile fell a bit. “And no sign of those agents… guess that talk threw ’em off… Dan! Ford! How are those posters coming along?” Grauntie Mabel yelled and turned to the mostly tacked up posters and black lights. No one was there. Grauntie Mabel narrowed her eyes.

 

          Dan and Stanford stopped in front of Grauntie Mabel’s door. Glittery paint and kittens and pigs covered most of it. “MABEL’S ROOM” was written on a sign tacked to the wall. “Please no minors!” scrawled on the part of the door underneath of it. A picture of Stanley was tacked to the door. “That includes you!”

          Dan looked down at Stanford. “I’ll keep an eye out for Mabel, okay? You, uh, go riffle through her old woman stuff.”

          Stanford nodded and opened the door. He tried to go inside. However, an invisible force seemed to push him back. The realization that he’d never done anything explicitly against orders struck him. Stanford had always been obedient and had always stuck to the rules. Rules were put in place for a reason- even if he disagreed with them. Stanford had a sneaking suspicion Stanley would be more than happy to sneak into her room, regardless of purpose.

          Stanford gritted his teeth and walked inside. He gently shut the door behind him. The room was a bit messier than he expected someone like Grauntie Mabel would be like. Then again, most of the mess was fallen fabrics, sweaters that fell out of a laundry basket, and a few stray stuffed pigs. Boxes labeled “crafting supplies” and “shirts” and “pants” and anything else were stacked up to one side. The blanket from her half-made bed spilled onto the floor.

           “Alright, Grauntie Mabel, where did you hide that card?” Stanford pulled out a drawer. “PIGS WEEKLY” along with all types of wacky earrings like pine cones and kitten heads and even a stray perfume bottle jingled in it. “Nope.” He opened a closet, which was packed full of, oddly enough, suits and overcoats. Pants and skirts were there as well. The bottom half of an unfinished deep blue sweater with what looked like the bottom of a light blue spear or tree lay on a box. A few pair of shoes lined the bottom. Did Grauntie Mabel even wear boots? Weird. Still, not what he was looking for. “Nothing.” He opened a drawer with a few colored martial arts belts and a pair of brass knuckles. “Nothing.” Stanford opened a treasure chest full of magazines and books, the one on the top being “Wolf Man, Bare Chest” volume thirty-nine, a green glass bottle with a note in it labeled “MABEL”, and “Knitter’s Club” with a heart for an ‘i’, and a half-covered “Fully Clothed Men” magazine. “Ew. Okay, pretending I didn’t see that.” Stanford shut the lid.

          Stanford stopped in front of a framed picture of Mabel and Waddles. This Waddles was younger and smaller and sat on her lap. Mabel set a hand on his back and smiled. “Wait a minute…” Stanford’s eyes crossed over to the edge of the picture. It wasn’t adjacent to the wall. He slid his fingers under the painting and pulled back. This revealed a metal cubby just big enough to hold the “Contraband Box”. A nail filer, hand cuffs, and playing cards stuck out of it as well as various toys and even a sling shot. Stanford slid the box out of its cubby and plucked the card out from inside. “Yes! Got it!”

          He immediately put away the box, ran to the neared phone, and picked it up. He referenced the card a few times in order to tap in the correct phone number. _“Agent Powers,”_ Agent Powers stated through the phone.

           “Hello! This is Stanford- the kid from the Mystery Shack. I have that journal I wanted to show you!”

           _“And you’re certain this ‘journal’ will help our case?”_ Agent Powers prompted.

           “I’m a hundred percent positive,” Stanford stated.

           _“Very well. We’re on our way,”_ Agent Powers stated.

          Grauntie Mabel put a finger on the switch hook, which caused the machine to think the phone was on it and thus ended the call. Stanford gasped and spun around. Grauntie Mabel, one hand on her hip and the other on the phone, narrowed her eyes at him. Suddenly, Stanford didn’t feel so confident.

           “Sorry, Ford,” Dan, standing behind Grauntie Mabel, held up his phone, which showed Toby shirtless. “I got distracted.”

           “Kid, why did you call those agents? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times!” she took the phone from Stanford. “-there’s nothing ‘supernatural’ going on in Gravity Falls.” The phone clicked as Grauntie Mabel hung it up.

           “Yes, there is!” Stanford argued. “After everything that’s happened, you _have_ to know that by now!”

          Grauntie Mabel sighed and pinched her nose, causing her glasses to ride up a bit. “Look, All I know is that your dumb obsession is going to get us _all_ in trouble one of these days.” She pointed to the door. “Now go enjoy the rest of the party,” She picked him up by the scruff of his jacket and pushed him outside. Dan immediately sped-walked away from her room as well. “-because after it’s over, you’re grounded. Dan, don’t you run away just yet.” Dan winced and looked back. “Stanford gets these crazy ideas in his head and I don’t need you making it worse. If I find out you’re helping him into trouble, I’ll make sure you won’t be sticking around here to _make_ it a next time. Understand?”

           “Yes, Ms. Pines.”

           “Good. Go help Stanford back outside.”

          Stanford walked with Dan outside. He glared back at Grauntie Mabel, though he made no move against her. _They’re on their way. It’s best to be outside, anyway._

 

          Grauntie Mabel watched him go with a heavy, irritated sigh. She tapped her fingers on the door and then stalked into the gift shop. When she knew no one was looking, she tapped in the ‘C’ shaped code, opened the vending machine, and closed it behind herself as she walked in.

 

          Stanley waved at people as he passed through the party. Kids danced around the floor or ate snacks or drank punch. Old Woman Chiu danced and snapped her fingers. Gorney, in a suit, stared ahead of himself with a wide smile and a cup of punch in his hand. Mr. Poolcheck held his arms at his side, slightly bent as he made his elbows nearly level with his shoulders, and kicked his feet out in a dance. Stanly stopped in front of Deputy Durland and Sherriff Blubbs. They looked about with narrowed eyes. “What’s the problem officers?”

          Deputy Durland stated, “We’ve got complaints about the loudest party in town.”

          Sherriff Blubbs stated, “Three words: We want in.”

          Stanley nodded his head. “Four words: Welcome to your dreams.”

 

          Out in the Mystery Shack parking lane, the government vehicle rolled to a stop. Agent Powers and Agent Trigger got out and checked their watches.

          Stanford raced out into the yard. “I’m so glad to see you. Working together, we can crack all of the big questions of Gravity Falls!” The agents looked at each other. “Trust me, this journal is the lead you’ve been looking for.” He held out Journal Three for Agent Powers. The two agents looked over the book. “I’m thinking of a full scale investigation. Forensics, researchers, even a helicopter.”

          Agent Powers took through various pages of the book. “Kid, I’d love to believe you, but this just looks like more junk from your aunt’s gift shop.” He turned the book around so that Stanford could see the page they were on: Leprecorn. “I mean, Leprecorn? I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s not funny.”

          Agent Trigger shook his head. “I can confirm. Not funny.”

           “No, no, no! It’s real, I swear!” Stanford gasped. “J-just get someone to check it out.”

          Agent Powers gave journal back to Stanford and walked off with Agent Trigger. “Your aunt was right about that overactive imagination of yours. We’ve got paperwork to do, kid.”

           “Boring paperwork,” Agent Trigger agreed.

           “WAIT! This book is real!” Stanford cried and flipped through it. “Gnomes, cursed objects, spells…! Listen!” The two agents stopped and turned around. Stanford read from the book, “ _Corpus levitas, Diablo Daminium, Mondo Vicium!_ ” he yelled and raised a fist to the sky. The agents looked about. Then, the ground quacked. The earth split open right under Stanford’s feet. He ran to the Agents and spun around. For the first time, their resolve cracked and their eyes went round in shock and mouths gaped as they saw a zombie crawl out of the green crack in the Earth. “Ha! A zombie! A real, actual, zombie. See? Spooky journal is one hundred percent real. Now can we work together?” Stanford grinned.

          Agent Powers gasped, “Mother of all that is holy!”

          Agent Trigger turned to him. “What do we do?”

           “It’s just _one_ zombie,” Stanford scoffed and looked at his journal. “Trust me, I see things like this all the time.” The zombie lurched forward and roared. Agent Powers picked up a stone and cracked the zombie’s skull with it to keep it from biting Stanford. Stanford sighed. “Whew. Good thing it was just that one.” The ground shuttered as more crack appeared and zombies crawled out. The agents’ shock turned into full blown terror. “Oh my gosh!” Stanford squeaked. “You guys can help, right?!”

          Agent Powers took a step back, which prompted is partner to do the same. “Kid, we’ve been chasing the paranormal for years, but we have never seen anything like this before!”

           “GET DOWN!” Agent Triger shouted. Two zombies bowled them over. More of them dragged the agents away, screaming and howling and struggling all the while.

          Stanford could only watch the horrifying scene in open-jawed terror. “Oh my gosh!” He put his hands on his head, inadvertently tearing a few strands of hair out. _“What have I done?!”_

 

          Back at the party, people danced and laughed. The two policeman stood up at the stage. Sherriff Blubbs started off the rap, “What’s up, fools? It’s Blubbs an Durls.”

          Deputy Durland sang, “Making all that money and getting’ them girls!”

          Stanley grinning ear to ear, held up a microphone. “What do you guys say? Is this party legendary or what?”

          The ground shook. The mood dropped quicker than a metal ball through a blanket of tissue paper. The music stopped and the policeman stopped singing as well.

           “Heh… what?” Stanley looked about.

           “We’re all gunna die!” A man with a handlebar mustache near the back cried and threw his hands up in the air.

           “Whoa!” Dan gasped. “I think it’s an earthquake!” He raised his airhorn high and blasted it. “EVERYONE! GET OUT OF HERE! IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE!”

           “We’re doomed!” Nick yelped.

          Hank pulled on a large backpack. “Come on Nick! Get in!” Nicholas hopped into the backpack and put his hands on his head. Hank ran past them. “Escape while you can!” he yelled to Stanley.

           “Wait, no!” Stanley yelled and looked after them.

          Stanford, wheezing, ran back to the party, now void of everyone but Fiddleford and Stanley. Stanford stopped in front of Stanley, hands on his knees and gasping for air. Gompers bleated and bounced to Stanford’s side. Stanley glanced at the zombies following Stanford’s trail. He crossed his arms. “Stanford, what’s the _one_ thing I told you _not_ to do?”

          Stanford looked up at him. “Raise the dead.”

           “And what did you do?”

          Stanford hung his head. “Raise the dead.”

          Fiddleford raced off the stage to stand by them. “Stay back! This is about to get intense.” A zombie knocked down a table next to them. Fiddleford jumped but, amazingly, did not bolt.

           “Zombies!” Stanford yelled.

          Stanley looked about. “Uh-uh! Don’t panic! Maybe they’re just a really ugly flash mob?” One of them _was_ wearing a party hat. A zombie swiped at them, causing the kids to duck and run back. Stanford hugged Gompers to his chest.

          Fiddleford jumped in front of them, arms spread and chest puffed out. “Don’t panic,” Fiddleford stated. “I’ve been training for this day. Don’t get bitten, don’t get too close, and their heads are the weak points. We’re not fighting. We have to find Mabel first. Barricade the house- keep them out! But we can’t do that from here!”

           “H-how’s she supposed to help?” Stanford stuttered. “She doesn’t even believe in the super natural!”

           “Believe it or not, I don’t care, but she’s your great aunt! She’ll know what to do!” Fiddleford snapped back at them. In the moment that he looked back, a zombie lunged and bit down on Fiddleford’s shoulder. He screamed and shoved the zombie back. Stanford and Stanley stared at Fiddleford in wide-eyed horror. Fiddleford turned to look back at them, one hand on his shoulder. Shivering like a fragile leaf in a brisk breeze, he squeaked, “Get in the house.” He blinked and shook his head. His skin had paled a bit within the few seconds of being bitten.

           “We have to bring you!” Stanley denied and touched his arm.

          Fiddleford jerked out of his grasp. “No! Leave!” He shook his head and gritted his teeth. Then, he calmed. He blinked open his eyes, now voice of pupils. “O-or, you could stay here. With us.”

          The Stan twins screamed and ran off. Stanley picked up a shovel as he went and Stanford grabbed the karaoke box. “The golf cart!” Stanford gasped and stopped. The zombies knocked over the cart and tore into it. “Oh no.”

           “That’s a bummer.” They turned back to see Fiddleford looking at the golf cart. He turned back to the twins. “But good news for me, I suppose?”

           “Fidds!” Stanford complained.

           “Hehe, sorry!” Fiddleford shrugged.

           “Back off!” Stanley denied and hopped onto the porch. He threw a disco ball and swung his shovel at it. A zombie behind Fiddleford swallowed the ball and then roared. Now it, and all the zombies around it including Fiddleford, glowed in different lights.

           “Give it up,” Fiddleford stated. “You’re fighting really isn’t that effective.”

 

          In the basement, the machine sparked and the lights shimmered. Mabel played with a few switches. “Those agents could ruin everything. Darn kid!” She looked at the door to the exit. “He has no idea what he’s messing with.” She picked up Journal One. “He’s stubborn, that’s his problem.” She looked at her reflection in the silver pine tree. “Sorta like me, I suppose.” She smiled and then sighed and set the journal down. She turned back to the control panel. “Ugh! I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about those kids. Let’s see…” Behind her, a security camera showed Stanley and Stanford with Gompers running from the zombies.

 

          The twins ran around the side of the house, leaped onto the porch, and zoomed in through the giftshop door. Stanley shut the door tight behind him. Stanford set down Gompers and the karaoke machine. “We need to board up the doors. Hurry!” The two work together piling everything up in front of the door. Then, the two backed off as the zombies broke through the door, roaring and swiping. They didn’t go far as the things piled up against it blocked them.

          Stanley nodded. “That should hold ’em for a while.”

          The window crashed open. Fiddleford appeared. “Hey! By the way, I taught the zombies how to get into the fuse box. Among these guys, I’m a genius!” He laughed. The Shack lights fizzle out. Fiddleford took a few steps back to allow the zombies through. The children backed up, Gompers bleating and crying at their heels. The door to the living room splintered as a zombie reached through it. Other doors began to fill as more undead stalked through.

           “F-Ford! Isn’t there anything about defeating zombies?”

          Stanford frantically searched through it, now on the brink of tears. “NO! There’s NOTHING in here about weaknesses!” He sighed and put away his book. “This can’t be happening. I wanted answers so bad I put everyone in danger. Now we’re dead, it’s all my fault, and no one can save us!” A zombie swooped down and tore Stanford into the air by his arm. He shrieked and struggled in the zombie’s grasp.

           “STANFORD!” Stanley yelled.

          Stanford’s heart beat too fast. He never really could empathize with Fiddleford about his fear, about how Fiddleford would go into panics so great he couldn’t keep himself up. But now, as he was dangling a foot or two in the air by his arm inches away from the jaws of a zombie, Stanford could relate to the painfully fast beat of his heart, shallow breath that brought in no air, and the chilling feel of his fight-or-flight instincts jammed down into ‘flight’ gear.

          The zombie’s head exploded with a thunderous _boom_.

          Stanford fell to the ground and was immediately helped up by his brother.

          The zombie twitched and about moved when it’s chest was caved in by a large, glittering pink shoe. They looked up to Grauntie Mabel, a shotgun in her hands. Green smudged her glasses and her hat was lost. Her party sweater and skirt were torn in a few places. She gestured to the twins. “You two! Attic! _Now!”_

           “Gr-Grauntie Mabel?” Stanford sputtered.

           “I said _NOW!_ ” Grauntie Mabel snapped. The twins and Gompers fled. Grauntie Mabel backed up through the doorway. “Alright, you undead jerks, are you ready to die _twice?_ ” The shotgun went off another few times before a zombie tore it out of her hands and snapped it. It went off one last time, obliterating another zombie’s head as it did so.

          Grauntie Mabel picked up a baseball bat and swung it at the nearest zombie, backing up all the while. “The only wrinkly old monster that harasses my family is _me!_ ” She knocked a few more heads off as she backed into the entrance room. “Take that! And that!”

          The kids flew up the flight of stairs. Grauntie Mabel backed up until she blocked the stairs.

           “Eat it, no-eyes!” she snarled and took off the heads of two more zombies before a third bit through the bat and snapped it in half. She jump-kicked it straight in the forehead. The zombie fell back into a few more zombies. She, now wielding brass knuckles, punched another in the face. “ANYONE ELSE WANT A PIECE?!” She continued punching and kicking the zombies that approached as she backed up the stairs. More poured in through the front door. Grauntie Mabel, a look of savage hate chasing away any fear she might have had, roared, “YOU DON’T SCARE ME!” She ran up to the top of the stairs and, with some effort, shoved a grandfather clock down the stairs. This took out quite a few zombies- all of them that were on the stairs and at the foot of it, at least.

          The twins raced into their room and slammed shut the door. The door shuttered as something knocked into it. Stanford and Stanley backed up. Stanley kept a hand on Stanford’s chest and Stanford held onto Stanley’s shoulder. Gompers stayed behind them. The door shuttered again and then opened. Grauntie Mabel stumbled in, coughing. She shut the door and put a hand on her back. “Oh! Ow! Ow. Everything hurts.” She stood up straight, barricaded the door with a chair, and slunk forward to meet the twins.

           “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley cried. “That was amazing!”

          Stanford looked up at her. “Are you alright? Heh heh… well, are least you can’t deny magic exists anymore, right?”

          Grauntie Mabel paused. “Kid, I’ve always known.”

           “Wait, what?” Stanford asked.

          Grauntie Mabel turned around. “I’m not an idiot, Ford! Of course, this town is weird. What I know about this weirdness is that it’s _dangerous!_ ” The door cracked as a zombie hand burst through it. The kids yelped and Grauntie Mabel backed them up so that they were in the center of the room. “I’ve been lying about it to try to keep you away from it!” The window behind them shattered as a zombie burst through it. Grauntie Mabel whipped around and, using both her momentum and strength, kicked the zombie. Its head snapped back as it’s skull fractured and neck snapped. The zombie fell back into the crowd below. Its head popped off upon hitting the ground. All eyes turned on them. “It looks like I didn’t lie well enough.”

           “What do we do?!” Stanley cried. “What do we do?!” Gompers hid under the bed, whimpering and shaking.

          Stanford paced about the room. “Well, normally the journal would help us, but there’s nothing in here about defeating zombies!” He stopped and opened the book for them to see. It was on a random page. A black light, turned on as Stanford stepped on a button, glowed over the book. Text previously invisible lit up. “It’s hopeless!”

           “Ford, look!” Stanley gasped. “The text! It’s glowing in the black light!”

           “What?” Stanford flipped the book and then set it on the ground so that the blacklight shone over it. Stanley and Grauntie Mabel walked up behind him to look over his shoulder. He flipped through the pages, all covered with annotations that glowed in the black light. “All this time I thought I knew all of the journal’s secrets…but they’re written in some sort of invisible ink!”

           “Invisible ink,” Grauntie Mabel breathed.

           “This is it!” Stanford gasped as he reached the page over zombies. Everything was drawn over with invisible ink. “‘Zombies have a weakness! Previously thought to be invincible, their skulls can be shattered by a perfect three-part harmony.’ Three party harmony? How can we create that? I have a naturally high-pitched scream…?”

           “I can make noises with my body?” Stanley offered.

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. Her signature smile crept up on her. “Boys, boys. I think you’re missing the _obvious_ solution.”

 

          Zombies flooded the place. As their prey was not in their radar, they ambled mindlessly about, growling and moaning. A mic screeched as Mabel tapped it. “Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?” Zombies left their stations to go out into the front yard. Fiddleford started to leave through the living room when his gaze fell on an unsolved Cubic’s Cube. He perked up and sat down behind it. One of the zombie growled.

          Fiddleford looked back. “Oh, just a second. Let me finish this.” He fiddled with the Cubic’s Cube to solve it. Meanwhile, the rest of the zombies gathered outside.

          Grauntie Mabel stood with Stanley and Stanford on the roof. She puffed out her chest and held the mic up close. Stanley and Stanford both held mics but stood stiff and tense, ready to bolt if needbe. Grauntie Mabel yelled, “Welcome zombies and gentlemen! I’m Mabel, this’s Ford and Lee, and together we’re Love Patrol Alpha!”

          Ford shook his head. “I never agreed to that name.”

          Grauntie Mabel pointed to the karaoke box. “Hit it!”

          The box started playing “Taking Over Midnight” by &ndra. A few silhouettes started dancing on screen before the lyrics rolled up.

          Stanley looked over the lyrics as they started to form. “Uh, Grauntie Mabel? Our lives might not be worth this.”

          Ford read off the lyrics, “ _Friday night,_

          _“And we’re gunna party ’til dawn._

          _“Don’t worry, Daddy,_

          _“I’ve got my favorite dress on?!_ ” Ford covered the mic. “Mabel, this is stupid!”

          Mabel, with much more enthusiasm than her nephew, sang, _“Roll in to the party,_

          _“The boys are lookin’ our way._

          _“We just keep dancin’,_

          _“We don’t care what they say!”_

          Zombies started climbing the roof. Others stared on in confusion. Mabel continued, _“And all the boys are getting’ up in my face-!_ ” She yelped as a zombie rode up. She kicked it. “Guys! We have to sing together or it _won’t work!”_

          Stanley backed up, singing, _“Boys are a bore,_

          _“Let’s show ’em the door.”_

          The other two looked at him and smiled. _“We’re takin’ over the dance floor!_ ” They sang together.

          _“Oh-OH! Girls do what we like!”_ The zombies cried and covered their ears as a shockwave passed over them. A few heads exploded. All of the zombies that had been climbing the roof fell off.

          _“Oh-oh! We’re taking over tonight!”_ The three shared a mic and danced to the music.

          _“Oh-oh! Girls do what we like!_

          _“Oh-OH! We’re taking over tonight!_

          _“We’re queens of the di-SCOOO!”_ The cried together. Zombie heads burst all around them.

          _“Oh-oh! Girls do what we like!_

          _Oh-oh! We’re taking over toniiiiiiight!”_ Stanford sang and then gasped as a zombie reached over the lip of the roof they were on.

           “Duck!” Stanley ordered. Stanford did as he was told. Stanley, wielding the confetti canon, aimed it at the zombie. It went off, showering the ground with confetti and throwing the zombie head into a punch bowl.

          They continued their song, smiling at one another and dancing to the beat of the song, until it finally ended. Once the music tapered out, they looked around to find no more zombies moving. Mabel laughed. “Thank you! We’ll be here all night!” The morning sun crested the horizon.

           “HA!” Stanley yelled in triumph. “Take THAT zombie idiots!”

          The three pumped their fists into the air and chanted, “PINES! PINES! PINES! PINES!”

 

          The three gathered in the torn living room. Grauntie Mabel retrieved her shooting star fez and put it on her head. Stanford sighed, “I’m really sorry. I ruined everything.”

          Stanley gave him a half smile. “Well, we totally got to kick zombie butt. I didn’t know that was on my summer to-do list until today!”

          Grauntie Mabel got down on one knee and put her hands on their shoulders. “Kids, listen. This town is crazy. I need you to _be careful_. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I let you go hurt on my watch.” Her gaze turned sullen. She shook herself. “I’ll let you hold onto that spooky journal, as long as you promise me you’ll only use it for self-defense and _not_ go looking for trouble.” She stood up.

          Stanford nodded. “Okay, as long as _you_ promise me that you don’t have any other bombshell secrets about this town.”

          Grauntie Mabel crossed her fingers behind her back. “I promise.”

          Stanford copied her. “Promise.”

           “Man,” Grauntie Mabel sighed. “We have got a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” She looked about. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?”

          Fiddleford stumbled into the living room. “Brains! _Braaaaains!”_ He couldn’t go far as he was caught on the living room seat, which had been flipped over.

           “Holy Moses!” On reflex, Grauntie Mabel picked up a chair.

           “Wait!” Stanford jumped between them and looked down at his journal. “There’s a page in here about curing zombification. It is going take a lot of formaldehyde.”

          Grauntie Mabel peeked over his shoulder. “Oh! And cinnamon!”

          Stanford sighed. “Come on, Fidds. Let’s get you fixed up.

           “Brains!”

           “Fiddle, cut it out,” Grauntie Mabel scolded as she poked him back with a chair.

           “Heh! Sorry!”

           “I can’t believe it,” Stanford breathed as he walked behind his great aunt. He shined a black light over the journal. “All this time, all of its secrets was hidden in plain sight!” He looked over a tree. In invisible ink, a ladder wrapped around it and spiraled down. “Hiding Spot?” “DANGER!” He smiled. “A whole new chapter of mysteries to explore…”

 

          Out in the forest, Agent Powers and Agent Trigger dragged themselves out of a ditch. Agent Trigger wheezed, “That was insane! I’ve never seen anything like it! Who do we report to?” He turned to Agent Powers.

          Agent Powers tore a zombie skull off his suit. The teeth had torn through the suit, but not the vest underneath. He watched as it disintegrated in his hand. “This is bigger than we imagined. We need to bring in the big guns.”

           “But they’ll never believe us!” Agent Trigger sputtered.

          “Then we’ll _make_ them believe us,” Agent Powers stated.

 

CCZ'U ALNK AGN AGOF ZW **Y** BOZ'U KSM **H** DPT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at it again! This time, with party crashing zombies! Who knew Grauntie Mabel's parties attracted so much weirdness? First it's clones, now _vigenère_ it's zombies. Oh, and Grauntie Mabel uses a shot gun and her black belt to defeat _zombie_ those zombies because Grauntie Mabel is a strong, independent woman who don't need no zombie.


	2. Into the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invisible Ink. Stanford found the big break he needs to in order to solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls and find the author of the journals! ...or did he? Stanford, Stanley, Fiddleford, and Dan go on a mission to find the author once and for all. But it seems they go through a few snags along the way.

 

          Sun filtered in through a window in the squat log cabin on the outskirts of town. A crystal heart refracted beams of sunlight and sent scattered shards of rainbows across the room. Dan and Stanley sat together on the foot of Dan’s bed with a large, shared bowl of popcorn. The TV in front of them turned to life as it played a zombie horror movie.

          The woman on the black-and-white screen clung to the high school football player beside her as a horde of zombies slowly approached them. “What do we do, Chadley?” she asked. A boom mic appeared just inside of the shot. “I thought they were dead!”

           “Far worse, Trixandra!” Chadley announced. “They’re… Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite!”

          The screen turned white with the scratched in words “NEARLY ALMOST DEAD BUT NOT QUITE!” Tiny words stated at the bottom: “A good enough picture by MXMLMLMXML” A dark splatter splashed across the screen, underneath of the words so they stayed visible.

          Stanley scoffed as the woman screamed, “You know, these movies are a lot less scary when you fought real zombies.”

           “They’re slow!” Dan said to the TV. “Just power-walk away from them!”

          Stanley snickered and elbowed Dan. “How much you wanna bet _that guy_ dies first?”

There was a chomping noise on the TV followed by Chadley’s exclamation, “Aah! My face is being eaten a lot!” Dan and Stanley laughed.

           “Chadley isn’t pretty anymore!” Dan chuckled. His phone buzzed. “One sec.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. Ugh,” he groaned. “Another text from Janice.”

           “Oh, right. Janice. So, how’s that situation going?” Stanley prompted and then stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth to prevent himself from speaking further.

          Dan huffed, “I’m over her. I just wish she was over me. What are these texts? Look at this! Winky frown? What does that even mean?” He showed him the screen of his phone, where a picture of Janice with her hoodie on in the rain was flanked by a semi-colon-left-parenthesis.

           “Wow.” Stanley spoke as soon as he swallowed the excessive amount of popcorn he’d eaten. “That’s… So, I was wondering if you wanted to join Stanford and I on this mystery hunt tomorrow? You know, conspiracy stuff and all that.” He waved his hand with a shrug.

          Dan put away his phone. “Yeah, man. I love doing stuff with friends.” He turned to the TV. “Chadley, watch out!” A scream came from the TV, causing them to laugh and roll their eyes.

 

          Grauntie Mabel stood outside the Mystery Shack. In the heat of the day, she wore her white tank top and purple skirt. She had her eyepatch on her glasses over her left eye. She watched as the construction crew she’d hired pulled everything up to their normal positions. “Easy with that!” she called to a crane pulling the totem pole up. “It’s genuine plastic! Also, repave the cracks in the parking lot.” She looked over a large crack in the pavement. “I don’t want my car falling into China!”

           “Ms. Pines,” a workman with a clipboard approached her. “What exactly caused all this damage? I need to write a report.”

          Grauntie Mabel answered simply, “A big woodpecker.” Behind her, the giftshop sign fell over. She pulled out several bills and stuffed them in his shirt pocket. “Keep the change.”

          The workman shrugged. “Works for me.” With that, he scribbled something down and walked off.

          Grauntie Mabel turned around and lifted her eyepatch. “Now, where did those kids go?”

 

          Out in the forest, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford stood by the metal tree that had held the lever to Journal Three. Stanford held up his lantern and tapped it. “Okay, everyone! Thank you for coming!”

           “Dude, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Stanley smirked.

          Fiddleford nodded with a wide grin. “You can always count on me ta help!”

          Stanford set the lantern on a tree stump and took out Journal Three. He showed it to them, the picture of the metal tree page showing. “We’re here to solve the number one mystery in Gravity Falls: who wrote this journal? Thirty years ago, the author vanished without a trace. But according to this new clue-” He took out a black light and turned it on the page. A spiral staircase attached to it spun down. “-we may have found his secret hiding place. We find that author, we learn the answers to _everything._ ” He put away the journal and blacklight and then took a step back to look up at the tree. “We just need to find a way inside.”

           “Chop it down!”

          They turned around to see Dan ride out of the trail on his bike. He propped it up against a tree and then traded his helmet for his beanie.

          Stanford smiled. “Dan!”

          Stanley grinned. “Hey! You made it!”

           “Yeah, I’m so excited about this.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered over to them. “I’ve been wanting to go adventuring with you guys. Thanks for inviting me!”

           “We can use all the help we can get!” Stanford answered with a tight nod. “So, this is where I found the journal.” Stanford pointed to the tree, where the compartment door holding the machine was open. He led Dan over to it.

          Fiddleford took a few steps back to give them room. Stanley wandered over to Fiddleford. “Soo, what’s happening?”

          Fiddleford looked back at him. “Oh, I was just tryin’ to find something new about this here tree. Maybe find an entrance or somethin’.”

           “You know that’s not what I was talking about.” Stanley elbowed him with a broad, cat-like grin.

          Fiddleford glanced about him. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

           “Okay, whatever.” Stanley shrugged. “Guess I’m just bein’ dumb thinking about how stupid fast you agreed to go with us to find a secret bunker with Stanford underground without anyone else around here.” Stanley’s grin just wider as he drew out the desired reaction.

          Fiddleford ran his fingers through his hair and broke eye contact with Stanley. “O’ course Ah’d come with. Ah like this whole mystery business. Besides, we’re partners.”

           “In more ways than one, eh?” Stanley snickered. Fiddleford turned away from him, but not before he saw the pout and pinkness that came to his cheeks.

          Dan looked up at one of the branches. A few bolts surrounded it. “Hey, is it just me, or does that look like a lever?” he prompted.

          The other three boys looked up. Stanford nodded. “Oh. It kind of does. But how are we going to get up there? It’s pretty high up.”

          Dan took of his belt and snapped it over the side of the tree. The other end it whipped around the tree, where it caught it in his other hand. Then, tangling his hands on each end, he pulled it back, set his feet on the tree, and scaled it. Once he got the lever, he tied the belt around himself, took out his ax, and bonked the branch. It flipped down. He looked down at them. “Like that.”

           “Whoa!” The boys gasped.

          Dan put his ax back in a sheath on his pants. “Yeah, my mom has the whole family participate in lumberjack games. I’m pretty much a master. Wait, what?” The tree shuttered and sunk. Dan’s foot slipped and the belt snapped out of its position. Dan yelled as he plummeted to the ground and landed on a bush below. The three kids ran to his side as the tree, and a small area around it including the bush Dan was on, sunk down. Dan scrambled back and stood up. They watched as, after a few yards, it stopped sinking. Metal-lined planks popped out of the side down in a makeshift spiral staircase. A door in the tree opened.

          Stanford turned to them. “Alright, remember: whatever happens down here, we tell _no one._ Understand?” Stanley put a hand to his head. Dan zipped his lips. Fiddleford nodded and gave a thumbs up. Stanford smiled and held up his lantern. “Now, who wants to go first?”

          Stanford ended up being the first to go down, with Fiddleford straight behind him. Stanley looked about with round eyes. Dan stayed guard at the rear, his sharp eyes taking in every detail and returning to kids every few seconds.

          Once they entered, they had to stop at the entrance to admire the scene before them. _“Whoa!”_ Stanley breathed.

           “Amazing,” Stanford agreed.

           “What is this place?” Fiddleford looked about at the machines, pipes with valves, shelves, and cabinets. A cot lay to one side.

           “Whatever it is, it’s old,” Dan looked at the cobwebs and the thick layer of dust over everything. “And stupid cool.”

           “This has to have belonged to the author,” Stanford stated as he looked around, his lantern held up. He glanced at the “FALLOUT SHELTER” metal sign with a gas mask next to it.

          Dan took it and dusted it off. “This is going over my bed.”

          Stanley stuck his face in a barrel and then straightened up. Caterpillars inched over his face. He laughed, “My face feels fuzzy!”

           “This is incredible!” Stanford exclaimed and looked over a bookcase packed tight with boxes of preserved food. “He was preparing for a disaster. But what kind of disaster would need supplies for over _sixty years?_ ”

          Fiddleford opened a weapons locker. His eyes went round as he inspected the tools within. “These are _ancient!_ ”

          Stanford picked up an empty bean can on the floor. “Wait, guys, I think this can was opened recently!” He held up the can, which was empty of beans but had a slimy substance within.

          Fiddleford grinned. “The author might still be alive, down here!”

          Dan inspected an old, dusty map of Gravity Falls from 1982. “Wait a minute…” he pulled down the map. Stanford winced as it tore in places. A partially opened, round hatch labeled “WARNING” “STAY OUT” opened completely. Dan crawled inside. Everyone else immediately followed suit. “Whoa.” He opened another hatch and lead them into a room covered from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, with squares, some of them bearing odd symbols. “Man, was this built in the past or the future?”

          Fiddleford shrunk into himself. “This place is creepy.”

          Stanley hopped inside. “Yeah, man! That author must have been wicked… cool…” He looked down as his foot sank a few inches into the ground. The pressure plate he stepped on glowed. Suddenly, every symbol in the room glowed red. The squares slowly pushed out. An alarm buzzed. The hatch shut and locked itself.

          Fiddleford looked about. As the walls pressed in, he began to hyperventilate. “What’s going on?!”

          Although they attempted to press against the walls, nothing they did changed anything in the slightest. “It won’t stop!” Dan heaved as he pushed on a square with all his might- which was quite a lot.

           “Ford! What do we do?!” Stanley turned to him.

          Stanford took out the journal and flipped through pages until he found one covered in symbols. None of them were highlighted. They were all the same. However, when he took out the blacklight, four of them glowed. He held out the journal. “Everyone! Press these symbols!”

          Fiddleford pounced on one on the ground. “One!” It glowed blue.

           “Two!” Dan punched one in the wall. It turned blue.

          Stanley hopped up and slapped one on another wall. “Three!” The symbol became blue.

          Stanford looked about until he found one on the roof. He raced up and pressed it before another square blocked his way. He could see its blue shine for only an instant before it was covered up. “Four!”

          A door on the far side hissed as machines unlocked it and pushed it open. Stanley pointed to the door. “RUN!”

          They needn’t be told twice before evacuating the room. A few hairs on Stanford’s head along with his jacket got caught on the blocks as he went. He shrugged it off in an instant.

           “Oh my gosh.” Fiddleford put a hand to his chest and another on his knees. “We almost died!”

          Dan punched Stanford in the shoulder. “You saved our hides back there!”

          Stanford smiled and patted Fiddleford on the shoulder. “It’s okay, man. We made it out.”

          Fiddleford smiled and straightened himself out. “Thank ya.”

          Stanley took Stanford’s jacket out of the wall and tossed it to him. “There you go.”

           “Thanks.” Stanford put it back on and fluffed it out so that it wasn’t creased or inside out in places.

          Stanley picked up a few vials, put them over his eyes and turned around. “Check it out! Science-binoculars!” Dan laughed and looked over the place lined wall-to-wall with machines and a desk.

          Stanford pressed a button and opened a door to the closet.  “Oh, wow! Would you look at that. It’s empty. Hey, Fidds! What do you think?”

          Fiddleford joined him by the closet and looked over the buttons next to it. “I don’t know. It looks like a closet… but why is it empty?”

          Stanley ran over to Fiddleford and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Fidds?”

           “Yeah?”

           “You know I’m your best friend, right?”

           “…yes.”

           “Well, love hurts.” Stanley shoved him into the closet and slammed a button next to it to shut the door.

          Fiddleford gasped and pounded on the door, “STANLEY!”

           “Bro!” Stanford knocked on the door. “What the heck?”

           “Let us out!”

          Stanley leaned against the door. “Oh, sure. I’ll let you out. Just tell Ford what you’ve been wanting to tell him.”

          _“What?”_ Fiddleford glared at the door. “Ah’m serious, Lee!”

           “What’s he talking about?” Stanford turned to Fiddleford. They couldn’t see each other in the pitch black.

           “He’s just messin’ with us,” Fiddleford replied.

           “That’s besides the point,” Stanley scoffed.

           “Where are the lights?” Stanford reached up and pawed at the air. A cord touched his fingers. He pulled it. They screamed as water poured over them from the ceiling. A blast of hot air pushed them into each other. A red light flashed above them. “DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE” flashed over them. The other wall turned out to be a door, which opened to allow them passage.

          The two looked about the broken lab. There were quite a few giant tubes. One of them above a broken control panel had shattered. Nearby, a barred cage had busted open- just like the barred cage back in the Mystery Shack when the gremloblin escaped. Elongated ceiling lights, like those in the Dusk-2-Dawn convenience store, hung on thick, long cables and sent white light over everything.

           “A secret lab…” Stanford breathed as he walked inside. “The author must have done experiments down here.”

          Fiddleford’s gaze traveled over the giant holes in the wall. Some lined the bottom, but quite a few riddled the walls up to the natural stone ceiling like a wasp nest. “What do you suppose made those tunnels?”

           “Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Stanford stated, though he couldn’t fight off a small smile. He put a hand on his notebook, ready to pull it out if necessary. The creatures they could find down here would be–

          A screechy roar echoed out of one of the tunnels. All thoughts on a really cool monster chase vanished from Stanford’s mind. The two screamed and ran for the door. “Bro!” Stanford yelled. “Let us out!”

           “There’s a monster in here!” Fiddleford agreed.

          From the other side of the door, they could hear Stanley clicking his tongue. “Oh _please_. The only monsters here are your own inner demons.”

           “What the heck?!” Stanford growled and then turned to Fiddleford. “Look, just say whatever Stanley wants you to say and he’ll let us out of here!”

           “Come o-on~!”

          Fiddleford shuffled his feet. “Ah-Ah… Ah’m goin’ ta find another way out.” He took him by the wrist and ran out.

           “Whoa! Fidds! Where are we _going?_ ” Stanford stumbled and struggled to regain his balance. The only reason Fiddleford could guide Stanford, who had to have been stronger than him, was due to Stanford’s imbalance.

          The two ran into a corner.

           “Now what do you propose we do?” Stanford’s tone got a dry note to it. “My brother can be obnoxious, and scary if he wants to be, but he’s no human-eating monster.”

           “L-look, Ah don’t know.” Fiddleford stopped speaking as the monster shrieked.

          The light from the lab cast the monster’s shadow into the wall. A man appeared and, facing the monster as if he’d done it a million times before, tore the monster’s tongue out. The thing crumbled and fled. “Back! Back you heinous beast!” The man’s voice was gravely and quite rough.

          The two boys glanced at each other and then the shadow of the man. The trench-coat wearing man stepped out of the shadows. His goggles flashed in the light. In his black-gloved hands was a creature’s tongue. “Well, I just ripped out a monster’s tongue.” He threw it on the ground before them.

          Fiddleford took a step back, pressing his back against the wall. Stanford watched him in wonder. “It’s you!”

          The man waved his hand. “Hurry now, I scared it off, but it’ll regenerate.” Stanford grabbed Fiddleford’s wrist and followed the man. The man continued, “I wasn’t expecting guests. I’ve been down here for a very long time.” He stopped and turned to them. “Years! Weeks, maybe! I miss orange juice.”

           “You don’t understand, you’re him! You’re the guy we’ve been looking for!” Stanford wheezed.

          Fiddleford looked at Stanford. “He’s the guy?”

           “He’s the guy!”

           “The guy?” the man prompted.

          Stanford nodded and fiddled with his fingers. “I’ve got _so_ many questions! Why did you write the journals? Who was after you? Why did you build this bunker?”

           “Heh, my boy, I’d love to discuss this in time. We have more pressing matters.” The man set a hand on his shoulder before turning and walking into the broken lab. “It’s one of my experiments, a shape shifter. Able to take the form of anyone or anything it sees. It broke free from a cage of solid steel!” He stopped and gestured to the broken cage. “I’ve gone half crazy trying to catch the creature alone. But now you’re here!” He got down on one knee, pulled back his goggles, and set a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “Will you help me catch it?”

          Stanford gasped, his eyes going round and a great smile lighting up his features.

 

          Inside of the fully intact lab, Dan and Stanley fiddled with a few things. Dan attempted to put on a lab coat, but ultimately shrugged it off as it was made for someone half his size. He picked up a suitcase. “Heh. This thing’s new. Pretty heavy. Do you think we should take it back?”

           “Definitely!” Stanley chuckled. “Man, they’re going to love it! They sure are taking a while.”

           “Dude, you locked them in there.”

           “If they wanted to come out, they’d tell me.” Stanley waved his hand with a “pfft” and turned to a monitor. It was pointed to the many tubes in the broken lab. “Oh! What’s this?” He pressed a red button. A tube sputtered to life and glowed. “Frozen? Cool.” He pressed the button again. “Unfrozen! Frozen… unfrozen!” He looked down at a lined piece of paper on a clipboard. “What’s this? Experiment #210: ‘THE SHAPESHIFTER’.”

           “Shape shifter?” Dan echoed. “Uh, Lee? Didn’t they say something about a monster in there with them?”

          Stanley gasped, “I thought he was joking!”

           “YOU KNOW THEIR JOKES ARE TERRIBLE!”

           “STANFORD!” Stanley exclaimed.

 

           “Come in, come in!” the man brushed back a tattered blanket separating the mouth of one tunnel from a wide tunnel cave. Stanford and Fiddleford followed him. Fiddleford inspected a large “H2O” valve on a pipe big enough to hold Stanford. Bean cans littered the ground. “I apologize for the state of things! I don’t get many non-mole-people visitors.” The man stopped. “Now the beast must have some weakness we can exploit. I just wish I had my research on me.” He sighed. “But alas, I lost my journals so many years ago.”

           “Did you say journals?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “I found one of them!” Stanford exclaimed and took out Journal Three. “That’s how I tracked you down here!”

           “What?! Could it be?” The man spun around and stared at the blue and silver, leather bound journal. He took it from Stanford and admired its cover. “My boy! I can’t express my gratitude!” the man cried. He turned around so that his back faced the boys. He eagerly flipped through the pages. “Oh, yes, after all these years…”

 

          Stanley burst through the door into the broken lab. Dan raced ahead and stopped. “FIDDLEFORD! Ugh, it’s so _dark!_ ” The long, white lights that had once lit up the area were dark.

          Stanley brought out a flashlight. “Leave that to me!” He flicked it on. He ran off into the tunnels. “We’re comin’ for you guys!”

 

          The man was now sitting, hunched over the book and studying its contents like a dying dog desperately drinking the last of its water. Stanford sat a few feet away with Fiddleford. “Isn’t this _amazing?_ ” Stanford breathed. “We’re meeting the author!”

          Fiddleford picked up a can of beans and inspected it. Once he flicked a bit of the dirt off, he froze. The can dented a bit in his grip. He squeaked and gave the can to Stanford. He hissed, “ _Stanford! Look!”_

          Stanford looked down at the can. The picture of the “author” was stamped on it along with a dog as it was the “HIGH FLYIN’ BEANS” logo. Stanford looked up at Fiddleford and then turned the man holding the journal. Stanford stood up and approached the man. Although he attempted to put down his fear, his voice shook a bit. “Actually, you know what? We should probably get going. May I have my journal back?”

          The man’s body froze. He turned his head around one hundred and eighty degrees and stared at them, his pupils elongated and lips pulled back to reveal his gums and throat instead of just his teeth. “You aren’t going _anywhere!_ ” His voice deepened considerably until it was a rumbling gurgle of thunder that didn’t echo. He raced up the wall. Four legs grew out of his body and dug into the ceiling. He morphed out of the High Flyin’ Beans man and into his “true form”- that being a translucent, pale beige-blue creature. He had one giant, thick arm and one long, thin arm. His lower body consisted of four insect legs, two of which ended in crab claws. His round head had an elongated snout ending in four pinchers and six teeth in a round hold of a mouth. His blank purple eyes, void of pupils or whites, stared down at him. Liquid dripped from him. “How do you like my _true_ form? Go on, admit it: you like it.”

          Stanford took a step back, Fiddleford behind him. He pointed up at the creature, who still held the journal. “You! What did you do with the real author?!”

          The shape shifter’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll likely never find out. That star-faced nerd hasn’t been himself in thirty years! But I thank you for bringing me his journal. He used to write it while I was in my cage.” He opened it. “So many wonderful forms to take.” He licked each picture. In turn, he became that creature. A gremloblin, a gnome, the Hide Behind- he laughed as he gained the form of so many new and dangerous creatures.

           “We’ve got to get that journal back!” Stanford breathed.

          Fiddleford nodded. His gaze fell to a bean can. Moving too quick to think, Fiddleford picked up the can. “Hey, shape-shifter!” He chucked the can. “Snatch this!”

          The shape-shifter turned into a giant toad with four giant lumps on its back. It shrieked and lashed out at them. Fiddleford and Stanford picked up a stray piece of metal. The shape-shifter’s tongue caught it and then brought it back. It dropped the journal, hissing in pain and rubbing its eyes. Stanford snatched the journal and ran off, Fiddleford’s arm in his hand.

          The shape-shifter shrieked and, after morphing into a few different forms, took on that of a giant brown roly-poly with antenna and a giant mouth. It curled into a ball and rolled after them.

          Stanford, a flashlight in his hands, looked back and their chaser. They stopped as they came to a fork in the paths. Stanford let go of his friend, chucked the flashlight as hard as he could down the right tunnel, and then hid in a crevice in the left tunnel. The shape-shifter hesitated at the fork in the tunnels. When he found the light disappearing to the right, he shrieked in victory and rolled after it.

          Without a glance back, Stanford and Fiddleford ran as fast as they could down the left tunnel. Stanford hissed in surprise as a sudden light blinded him. The two ran into two more people, one Stanford’s size and another quite a bit bigger, and fell.

           “Dan! Lee!” Fiddleford sighed in relief as he got up.

          Stanford hopped to his feet and put a hand on Fiddleford’s chest. “Wait! We don’t know if they’re the shapeshifter!”

          Dan looked between them. “How do we prove we’re not?”

          Stanley put a hand to his chin. “Hmm… I always thought you were a wimpy nerd, Sixer.”

          Stanford nodded and relaxed. “That’s them.”

          Stanley took a deep breath. “Okay, what happened?”

           “We got attacked by the shape-shifter,” Stanford explained. “It broke out of its cage, pretended to be the author, and led us to its home. Then it took the journal and tried to kill us when we took it back!

           “Imagine what would happen if it escapes into town!” Fiddleford exclaimed. “It could turn into anything- anyone! We’d never trust anyone ever again.”

          Stanley bristled, “What do we do?!”

          Dan glared in the direction the shape-shifter went. “Well, it tricked you two into its home, tried to take the journal, and then tried to kill you two. We should return the favor.”

 

           “Stanford, my boy!” The shape-shifter, now as the beans man, stalked around the broken lab. The light flickered on. He snarled and momentarily lost shape. “I must speak with you!” He roared and turned into a giant, maroon, six-legged monster. His head, shaped like a fist, nearly touched the ceiling. It looked around with large, hard eyes. The gopher teeth stuck out the top jaw while a very large, thick row of human teeth lined the bottom jaw. _“REVEAL YOURSELF, YOU SINGLE-FORMED HUMAN WEAKLING!”_ He slammed his head into the ground.

          Stanford, the journal held loosely in one hand, walked out of the tunnel. Stanley strode beside him. “Man, there sure are a lot of really cool monsters in that journal!”

          The creature’s gaze snapped to them. “There you are! Oh, and with a new one.” He morphed into Stanley. “Should I be one…” He morphed into Stanford. “…or the other? How about _both?_ ” He turned into a six-legged, hotdog shaped monster whose top half resembled Stanford and bottom half resembled Stanley. Both halves had large mouths with giant, sharp teeth. Both sets of eyes were misted over and white.

          The kids screamed and ran down the tunnel. They managed to meet Dan and Fiddleford by the giant “H2O” valve. Stanford yelled, “He’s coming! He’s coming! Now, now, now, _now!”_

          Dan and Fiddleford struggled to turn the valve. Fiddleford stared at the empty, dry hole. “It’s not working!”

          The shape-shifter caught up to them. A long, frog tongue snapped out of its top mouth and wrapped round the journal clutched in Stanford’s hand. “Hey! Let go!” Stanford snapped and coiled his arms tighter around the book.

          Dan snarled at him and grabbed the journal. “You leave him alone!” The shape-shifter flicked it’s tongue back. Dan planted both feet on its middle and took out the ax. For a moment, the creature’s eyes went wide as it stared down at the ax that would soon sever its tongue.

          The pipe hissed and shuttered. The three boys stepped back. Stanford yelled, “DAN! WATCH OUT!”

          Dan looked back just in time for a tidal wave to shoot out of the pipe at high pressure. All of them, human and shape-shifter alike, were flooded down the tunnel. Dan, Stanford, and Stanley gasped and struggled to stay up. Fiddleford was torn down below the waves.

*          *          *          *          *

          Once the water died down and they landed, Stanford got up on his hands and knees. He set a hand to his aching head and looked about. “Where are my glasses? Guys, have you seen my-?” His hand landed on Dan’s ax. When he looked back, he found the giant form of their oldest friend on the ground, shaking at random intervals as he hacked up water. Stanley shuttered and put a hand on his head. Where was Fiddleford? Where was the shape-shifter?

          Stanford gripped the ax with more strength and ran down the tunnel. When he made it to the lab, he found the tiny, drenched form of his friend. He shuttered and coughed. Stanford ran to his side and knelt. “Fiddleford?”

          Fiddleford blinked and looked up. His baby blue eyes met Stanford’s. He let out a small cough. Water dripped down his chin as his body, weak from the attack, struggled to get rid of the water in his lungs. “Stanford…?” His voice was thick and cracked.

           “Fiddleford!” Stanford breathed. “You’re okay! Right?”

           “My throat,” Fiddleford coughed and got up on one elbow. He hacked up a bit more water and put a hand to his throat. “Where’s the journal?”

           “I… I don’t know,” Stanford replied.

           “F-find it! We should get it away from the shape-shifter,” Fiddleford wheezed. “Maybe there’s somethin’ in there about this.” He gestured to his throat.

           “Okay, okay. I’ll find it. Here.” He hooked an arm under Fiddleford’s armpit and struggled to help him up. Fiddleford latched onto Stanford with surprising strength and got to his feet. Stanford wheezed and gasped as he helped his surprisingly heavy friend across the lab and to the door. He didn’t open the door. Instead, he set him down and stood up. “I’ll go look for it. You stay here.”

          Fiddleford nodded, gulped, and shifted so that he was more comfortable.

          Stanford shambled around the lab. He plucked the ax off the ground as he went. He squinted and looked about in search for the blue and silver blur that was the probably soaked journal. Stanford froze as he heard a muffled whimper. The boy looked about and crept toward the noise. It got louder as he approached one of the closets. Stanford gripped his ax with more strength and opened the closet. A set of watery, baby blue eyes stared up at him. Bound and gagged in the closet was his best friend. Wordlessly, Stanford knelt and untied him.

          Fiddleford spat and wheezed and coughed as the gag was taken out of his mouth. “Ford! Where’s the shifter? He locked me in here while ya’ll were still recoverin’.” He coughed as his body expelled more water.

           “By the lab,” Stanford answered. “Oh no. What are we gunna do?”

           “We- Ford! Behind you!” Fiddleford yelped. Stanford spun around. Fiddleford-shape-shifter raised a broken pipe and swung down. The real Fiddleford launched himself out of the closet and tackled Stanford. The pipe cracked into the ground. The two boys tumbled a few feet away.

          The shape-shifter cackled and picked up the ax. The two boys, out of breath and tangled together, looked up at the shape-shifter. Fiddleford shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against Stanford’s chest. Stanford shut his eyes and looked away from their killer.

           “Yo, ugly!”

          They looked up. Stanley, wielding the broken pipe like a bat, swung it. The shape-shifter yelped as he was hit upside the head. He dropped the ax. The shape-shifter changed into Stanley. He ducked another blow and screamed in Stanley’s voice, “DAN! Hurry! The shape-shifter’s got Ford and Fidds!”

          Stanford scrambled to his feet. Fiddleford rolled onto his belly and struggled to get to his feet. The shape-shifter tackled Stanley and threw the pipe out of his hand. They grappled and tumbled over the puddle-riddled ground. When one stood up, the other would trip, shove, or pull him down.

          Dan ran to their side. “What’s happening?”

          The Stanley on the ground pointed to the one stepping on his stomach. “He’s the shape-shifter!”

          The Stanley on top shook his head. “He’s lying! That’s the shape-shifter!”

          The one on the ground kicked the other in the back and tore him to the ground by his ear. The two continued to quarrel. That was, until Stanford picked up the ax and shouted, “Stop fighting!”

          The two, arms locked together and foreheads nearly touching, looked at him. The first gasped, “The ax! Kill him!”

           “No! Kill _him!_ ” The second hissed. “He’s the shape-shifter!”

           “Don’t listen to him!” The first shook his head vigorously.

          Stanford gripped the ax with more strength. “I don’t know who’s who! Give me a sign!”

          The Stanley on the left didn’t break eye contact with Stanford. “Bro, you’re my best friend and your smart so you should _know_ he’s the shape-shifter.”

          The second Stanley scowled. “You’re a shape-shifter, stupid! No one can tell you apart!” He turned to Stanford. “I locked Fiddleford in the closet with you because I’m an overly pushy jerk and didn’t know what I was getting you two into.”

          Stanford looked between them. He took a deep breath, raised his ax, and swung.

          The ax sunk into the first Stanley’s stomach. Green, translucent liquid spilled from the wound. He roared, let go of Stanley, and shifted back into his original form. The tube behind him flashed. “READY” blazed in green words above it. The shape-shifter discarded the ax.

          Fiddleford waved his hand. “Push him in!” He, Stanley, and Stanford worked together to push the weak and struggling shape-shifter into the tube. Then, the door closed. It nearly took their hands with it. The tube hissed as it froze. In the control room, Dan had slammed his hand down on the red button.

           “NO!” the shapeshifter howled. His form changed rapidly. First, he was a giant rock monster bashing the wall of the tube. Then, he was fire monster, desperately trying to fight off the chill. Then, he turned into the beans man. “Let me oooouuuut!” He returned to his original form. His struggles slowed and mist fogged the glass.

          Dan joined them in the broken lab. Dan shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

          They about turned to leave when the shape-shifter’s cackle flowed out of the tube. It hissed and pressed its face and hands against the glass. The four gasped and backed off. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Stanford?” The shape-shifter pounded the glass. “But you have no idea what you’re up against! You will _never_ find the author. If you keep digging, you’ll meet a fate worse than you can imagine. This will be the last form you ever take!” He shifted back into Stanford, his hands raised, eyes wide, and mouth open in a scream so scarily close to Stanford’s he wondered if it had come from him. The shape-shifter froze completely. Stanford stared at it.

          Stanley made a sad sound that resembled a laugh. “Good luck sleeping tonight.”

 

          The tree rose up behind them as they left the bunker. Stanford sighed. “I’m all adventured out for a while.”

           “No kiddin’,” Fiddleford agreed, his voice still shaky. The briefcase Dan had found was clutched in his hands.

          Stanley smiled. “But, hey! We’re all total heroes, if you think about it.”

          Dan ruffled Stanley’s hair. “How about some hero’s breakfast, eh?” He lifted Stanley up on his shoulders and, bike in one hand, walked down the trail.

           “Syrup on cereal!” Stanley chanted.

          Stanford started to follow. Fiddleford mumbled something behind him. Stanford turned around. “What?”

          Fiddleford didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, he shrank in on himself and ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah’m… sorry, Ford. Ah’m… Ah’m a coward.”

          Stanford put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, that thing tied you up like a lobster. It wasn’t your fault you were taken. Besides, if it wasn’t for your quick thinking, I’d be dead.” Stanford’s small, comforting smile faded as the realization he nearly died lingered in his head.

          Fiddleford shuffled his feet. “Well, ya aren’t dead. You’re the one who struck the shape-shifter.” A small, nervous smile crept up on his features. “At least we know not ta trust the first person who knows anythin’ about magic instantly, right?”

          Stanford chuckled. “Yeah, I deserve that. Let’s just hope there’s not a next time we meet someone like that.”

           “Do… you think we’ll ever meet the author?” Fiddleford tightened his grip on the briefcase.

           “Hopefully,” Stanford sighed. “But lately I… _No_. We have to stay positive. I’m _positive_ we’ll find the author.”

           “Well, duh!” The two screamed as Stanley popped out from behind them. Fiddleford dropped the briefcase and Stanford raised a hand in a fist.

          Once Stanford knew it was Stanley, he groaned, “Ugh! Stanley, don’t do that!”

          Stanley crossed his arms. “You’re the jumpy ones.”

           “For good reason!”

          Fiddleford bent down and picked up the briefcase. It clicked and opened. The three gasped. It was not hollow like a normal suitcase. It was heavy and thick with wires, metal, and tech. A screen dominated the top piece while a busted keyboard laid on the bottom. “PROPERTY OF C” labeled the top piece. “What in the–?”

           “It’s not a briefcase!” Stanford exclaimed, “It’s a laptop!”

          Stanley nodded. “And a really busted up one, too.”

           “This could be our big break!” Stanford laughed. “A laptop! With the author’s information, it has to be!”

          Fiddleford looked over the machine. “I think I might be able to fix this thing up. I’ll need a few days… and lots of spare parts… but I think I can manage.”

          Stanford hugged Fiddleford and then took a few steps back. “Come on! Let’s go home and get some pancakes or something!” Fiddleford shut the laptop and ran after him.

          Stanley put a hand on his shoulder. “I guess I shouldn’t be so pushy,” Stanley sighed. “But, hey! We got this! So, uh… take your time, I guess. But remember: we’re running out of summer.” Stanley ran after his brother. Fiddleford slowly nodded and followed.

          Stanford rubbed his eyes. “Uh… Stanley? Do you still have your extra glasses?”

           “Yeah,” Stanley answered. “I think they fit you? I made a copy of your glasses with that printer since you seem to break them a lot. We can ask Grauntie Mabel to get a new real pair.”

           “Thanks, Stanley.”

 

KOQKM **W** ZHA XNAZ H LJEGYOBKNJ LLUUXPSTMSM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know how the original episode went, dudes. But it doesn't _vigenère_ correspond with this particular plot and thus this particular sub-plot isn't going to be the same as the classic. I was actually really tossing things around during the whole Fiddleford fighting the Shape-shifter _shifty_ thing. Ultimately, I went with this. Also, you don't know how badly I wanted to make Stanford take home a baby shape-shifter. But seriously, though, who names a shape-shifter Shifty?
> 
> "As I was opening the door, I heard what sounded like muffled screaming coming from a cabinet. I was shocked to see F-my assistant-bound by rope and gagged with a sock!" Journal 3, on the passage about Shifty.


	3. The Golf War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley is known for his competitive nature. So when a challenge is presented to him, it's a very rare sight for him to back down. Even if the competition is petty and meaning behind it is worthless, there isn't a challenge Stanley will back down from. Well, when this challenge presents itself in the form of an old enemy of his being better at mini-golf than him, things start to take a nasty turn- Stanley style.

           The morning summer sun sent its life-giving rays over the valley in a blaze of heat. Diurnal animals ducked under shade as they foraged for food. People walked and drove through the small town, bringing life to the otherwise gray stone and wood settlement. Inside of the Shack, action was at a slow.

           Stanford ate a bowl of cereal as he watched Duck-tective. He set his feet on Waddle’s back. Waddles currently stuck his snout inside of the bowl of cereal. Fiddleford tinkered with a metal bird on the table. Grauntie Mabel, a frying pan in her hand, walked up to the threshold of the living room. “Hey! Who wants pancakes?”

           Stanford gave her a lazy look before he shrugged. “Nah.”

            “No, thanks, Mrs. Pines.”

           The door swung open. Stanley stalked inside, shutting the door behind him. Grauntie Mabel raised her pan so that Stanley didn’t run into it as he walked past. “What’s with the long face, Hun-bun?”

           Stanley groaned and stopped in the middle of the living room. “Preston’s a giant jerk!” He held out a bag of toffees and a rolled-up newspaper. “Look at this!”

           Stanford looked at the bag. “Uh… he let you get your favorite candy?”

            “No!” Stanley stomped his foot and pointed to it. “He took the last one!”

           Stanford raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that your holding, then?”

            “Oh, I stole it from him,” Stanley stated matter-of-factly.

            “Stanley,” Grauntie Mabel scolded. “I’ve told you before: stealing’s wrong!”

            “So, what’s the problem?” Stanford prompted. “You got your candy.”

           Stanley huffed. “He’s a jerk. Look at this!” He unrolled the newspaper. A picture of him with his fox was on the front cover. “FOXES BEST EXOTIC ANIMALS, SAYS PRESTON”. “He bought his way to the front page again, totally skipping your thing on goats I took credit for.”

            “That’s him,” Stanford agreed.

           Fiddleford nodded. “He’s always been like this, Lee. Ya can’t be surprised by it by now.”

           Stanley sat down at the living room table with a huff. He easily downed a glass of orange juice and set his face on the table. “Uuuuuugh. I need something to get my mind off this.”

           Duck-tective switched off as a commercial break appeared. The loud, clear voice of the narrator yelled from the TV, “Looking for a distraction from your horrible life?”

           Stanley perked up. “Yeah?”

           The TV answered, “Victory, honor, destiny, mutton!” As each word was said, the screen changed. Victory was a pirate atop a pile of gold, one foot on the chest and one hand clutching a sword raised. Honor was a man with a cape riding a brilliant white horse decorated by a blue blanket with white crosses. Destiny was a wizard in bright blue robes and a hat all decorated by stars waving his hand over a glowing orb. He was surrounded by mountains of books. Mutton showed a plain image of a headless animal skewered above a fire and rotating. The scene finally changed to a giant castle with the logo of “Ye Royal Discount Putt Hutt”. “These old-timey sounding words are alive and well at the Gravity Falls Royal Discount Putt Hutt!” Little words ran across the screen and the narrator said in a quick voice, “No mutton available at the snack shop.”

           Stanford perked up. “Hey, Stanley! You love mini-golf!”

           Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Really?”

           Stanford nodded. “Mhm. He’s been great at it since forever. We’ve never been in any formal competitions. He kind of got us banned from the course though.”

            “It was the other guy’s fault,” Stanley was quick to counter. “He was lookin’ at me funny!”

           Grauntie Mabel rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it was. So, what do you say? Would kicking out butts at mini golf make you feel better?”

           Stanley shrugged. “Eh. Maybe a little.”

           Stanford jumped up and balanced on the T-Rex skull. “To victory!”

           Grauntie Mabel puffed out her chest. “Honor!”

            “Destiny!” Stanley announced.

           Fiddle hopped off his chair. “Mutton!”

            “Victory!” “Honor!” “Destiny!” “Mutton!” they chanted as they marched out of the house. Waddles watched them go and, once the door was shut, oinked and lay down again.

 

           Grauntie Mabel’s baby blue car parked in the front parking lot. The shadow of the giant stump bearing the words “YE ROYAL DISCOUNT PUTTHUTT” and with medieval gates fell over the lot. Grauntie Mabel, Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford walked in, oohing at the new place to play. While Grauntie Mabel had changed into a pink t-shirt with her lime green sweater around her waist to combat the heat, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford contented on wearing what they usually wore. Stanford held his bright blue club while Stanley had a brilliant red one. Fiddleford tagged along with a nice yellow club.

           A small crowd of people, enough to feel like a golf course but not too many to be suffocating, milled about the complex park of mini golf courses.

           Stanley leaned on his golf club. “Wouldja look at that? An entire _park_ to dominate!”

           Stanford chuckled. “And there’s no seagulls too steal the golf balls!”

           Fiddleford grinned. “There’s something for everyone here!”

           Farther into the park, Janice cackled as she spray-painted “WEINERS” on the side of the wall. “HEY!” Janice jumped and spun around as the “Mini Golf King” approached in a modified golf cart. Janice darted off. “You! Stop!” The golf cart started off at a comically slow pace. “Come back here! Hey, those are some lewd hand gestures!”

            “You first!” Stanley pushed Stanford.

            “Okay, okay!” Stanford put down his little blue ball and stepped to the side. “Focus! Focus! And… Eh!” He swung. The very end of the club tapped the ball. It rolled off the course into a puddle. “Aw, come on.”

           Stanley laughed and stood up straight. “You’ll still always be number two in my book.”

           Stanford sighed and stepped back. “I’ll take what I can get.”

            “Step aside and let a pro onto the field.” Stanley set down in his own scarlet ball. He shifted his weight and held up the club. “Take a breath, shift your weight, and- yah!” He swung. The ball burst through the course, reverberating off walls and obstacles and hopping over dangers. It rolled up and then down the small hill, hit the sleeping “Old Woman” Chiu on the nose, and rolled into the hole.

            “Old Woman” Chiu jumped and looked about. “Eh? Eh? How’d I get here?”

            “Yes!” Stanley hissed in victory.

           Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Hey-hey-hey! Better watch out, Stanley- your talent is showing!”

           Stanford smiled. “Grauntie Mabel, you haven’t seen _anything_ yet!”

           They hopped from hole to hole. Although Stanford and Fiddleford took their turns attempting to get the ball in the hole, the real show was Stanley. Most hits got a hole in one, though some got a hole in two. As they played, they attracted a crowd.

           Finally, they stood under the “18” flag. Stanford held up their score sheet. “Ha! This is amazing! Just one more hole-in-one and he’ll beat his all time high score!”

           The crowd watched Stanley with great excitement. Stanley looked up at the windmill and then down at the ball. _“Okay, Stanley. Pretend that ball’s Preston’s face.”_ He smirked and swung. The ball zoomed through the course, dodged the windmill’s blades, and fit through the hole in the windmill. They ran around to the other side. They could hear the ball clinking through the windmill. Eventually, the ball rolled out the middle of the three holes and to the hole. The ball missed by an inch, rolled around a bump in the ground by the hole, and ended up in a puddle.

            “Aw, darn!” Stanley huffed and threw down his club.

           The crowd sighed and dispersed. “Aw, man!” “Well that didn’t work!” “Oh yes, he’s all done playing.”

           Grauntie Mabel plucked the ball out of the water and dried it off on her shirt. “Ah, don’t worry about it, kiddo. The thing’s random.”

           Fiddleford nodded. “Mhm. How mini-golf works is a big mystery in itself.”

           Grauntie Mabel smiled. “You know, as far as I’m concerned, you’re better than anyone else in Gravity…” Her voice trailed off as a purple ball rolled out of the windmill and plopped into the hole.

            “Huh?” Even Stanley looked a bit confused. He picked up his golf club.

            “Oh, would you look at that!” They looked up to see Preston tromping down to the hole, his parents behind him. “I didn’t know it was ‘Hobo’s Golf Free’ day!”

           Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. Stanley glowered at him.

           Preston stopped and looked over them. “Well if it isn’t the Pines family.” He put a finger to his chin and pointed to them each in turn. “Tiny.” Fiddleford looked away from him. “Old.” Grauntie Mabel huffed in indignance. “ _Freak._ ” Stanford looked away and hid his hands behind his back, a redness coming to his cheeks. “Stupid.”

           Stanley bristled and gripped his club in both hands. Grauntie Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me deal with this, Hun-bun.” She looked at Preston and then up at his parents. His father smirked. Pacifica only bothered with a small smile this time. Grauntie Mabel put her hands on her hips and leaned down. “Now, what’s botherin’ you little guy? I understand if you’re still sad over finding out your family’s a fraud, but it’s not nice to take it out on other people.”

           Preston scoffed, “What? That? Not anymore. That’s the great thing about money: it makes problems go away.”

           Fiddleford piped up, “W-well it can’t buy you skill!”

           Stanley huffed, “Yep! You just walked into the game of a mini-golf champion!”

           Preston made a barking noise that resembled a laugh. He snapped his fingers. “Sergui!” Behind him, a tall, lanky man donned in athletic wear stepped forward. “This is Sergei, my trainer!”

           Sergei stated, “The Sportylmpics had mini-golf once. I took gold!” He pulled back the V neck of his shirt to reveal a gold medal on his chest.

            “So, if you don’t mind moving out of the way of the professionals! Hmpf…” Preston turned and strolled up to the Bonus Hole. He hummed a bit, shifted his weight, and then struck. The ball soared through the air and flew into the bonus hole. The volcano exploded in a burst of light, wind, and fake lava. Preston smirked and turned to him. Stanley wiped off his look of shock and glared at Preston. “Enjoy second place. Give him a hand, folks!” As people clapped, Preston started to leave.

           Stanley stamped his foot and pointed at him. “Oh yeah? Well I challenge you to a rematch you _fake, one-dimensional, snobby, valley boy stereotype!”_

           The crowd around them gasped.

           Preston stopped, grimaced, and then turned around. “Fine. Let’s do this!”

           As Stanley and Preston came face to face, a shadow fell over them. Clouds, heavy with rain, filled the sky. Fiddleford breathed a silent sigh of relief.

           The Mini-Golf King rode through the park and to the crowd. “Hear ye! Hear ye! Honk, honk! Ahh!” His cart ran into a lamp post. He back up and drove into the lamp post a few more times before finally driving around it. “Stop at once! The park is now closed due to weather! The King of Mini-Golf has spoken!” He backed up. The cart ended up hitting the lamp post and falling over. “Ahh! The king is down!”

           Both Preston and Stanley shot disgusted, irritated glares at the King of Mini-Golf. Preston got nose-to-nose with Stanley. “This isn’t over. You, me, here, midnight. We’ll see who’s best.”

            “You’re on!” Stanley growled back.

           Preston smirked, brought out an umbrella, and walked off with his nose in the air. His parents, also bearing black umbrellas, walked out of the park. Sergei followed them.

           Lightning flashed. Thunder and rain tailed its brilliant light. Stanley watched them leave. “I’ll be there.”

 

           The drenched party of four sat in a booth in Hermanos Brothers, a Mexican restaurant near the golf course. Stanley tapped his fingers on the wooden table and, not taking his eyes off the golf course outside, ate a nacho. Stanford looked over their golf course sheet. He ate out of the nacho basket as well. Fiddleford kept his gaze on a Cubic’s Cube he finished a few minutes ago.

           Fiddleford took a deep breath and set down the toy. “Is this really a good idea?”

           Stanley swallowed his snack. “Of course it’s a good idea! I made it.”

           Grauntie Mabel leaned on the table. “Stanley, I think he’s talking about your competitiveness. I know you don’t like Preston, but going out in the mini golf course at midnight?”

            “We’ll be fine.” Stanley waved his hand. “It’s not like anything comes out at midnight in a mini golf course. Besides,” a grin spread across his features. “-when I defeat Preston, he can never rag on us again!”

           Stanford nodded. “Being competitive in mini-golf is better than what he normally does.”

           Fiddleford tipped his head. “What does he normally do?”

            “Punch people.”

            “Oh.”

           Stanley bared his teeth. He pointed to the gap. “I lost this one when Crampelter tried to wreck Ford’s experiment thingy. Oh, and I’m just growing _this_ one back, which I lost when someone started teasing Ford about it.” He chuckled. “I once hurt my wrist breaking someone else’s nose during Show-and-Tell.”

           Fiddleford looked at Stanford and then Stanley. “How do you- why? Er- well, Ah’m glad you like mini-golf, then.”

           Stanley nodded. “Yeah. You know what? We should go there early! To practice!”

           Grauntie Mabel gave him a sharp nod. “Yeah! Let’s do this thing.”

 

           Grauntie Mabel’s car broke through the mini-golf course’s toll. She stopped by the side of the course and hopped out. Fiddleford stayed back and, utilizing a pair of binoculars, watched the parking lot and area around them. Grauntie Mabel pulled out a few nails in one of the boards and moved it so that it was just big enough for Stanford and Stanley.

            “Oh, and, hey, Lee?” Grauntie Mabel took out a sticker from her bag and pressed it to Stanley’s shirt. It was a gold, round sticker with a trophy on it. “U DA BEST”. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”

           Stanley gave her a thumbs up before crawling into the course and taking his club from Stanford.

 

           Stanley, a bucket full of golf balls next to him, stood in front of the windmill course. He hit a yellow ball. It rolled through the windmill and then popped out the other side. Stanford watched as it joined over a dozen others around the hole, but not inside.

           Stanley growled and stamped his club. “Erg! What the heck?!”

            “I don’t get it!” Stanford agreed and stalked up to the windmill. “What is wrong with this hole?” Something clanked inside of the windmill. “Did you hear that?”

           Stanley perked up and walked around to join Stanford. “What? What happened?”

           Stanford backed up and whispered, “Grab your club.” He plucked his club off the wet ground. Stanley held his at a good angle to swing at something a bit higher up than the ground. They stalked toward the windmill, eyes narrowed, muscles tense, and grimaces wrinkling their noses. Once they got to the windmill, the Stan twins looked at each other and nodded. Stanley lowered his club and pulled a square of wood off the side. The twins lost their concentrated, threatening looks in lieu of shock and ill comprehension.

           Inside of the windmill were not the gears, tubes, and maybe a possum or raccoon they expected, but a city- a Dutch city of houses, tubes, towers, and tiny people with golf ball heads. The littles ones walked about or worked or sang happy tunes. As soon as one spotted them, they all looked up and screamed. The twins screamed. The little ones screamed. The twins screamed and raised their clubs. The little ones screamed and huddled together. Stanley and Stanford looked at each other and then lowered their weapons. The little one in the front, the one with the baby blue golf ball head rather than the common teal or pink or odd beige, stepped forward. “We good? We good?” The twins slowly nodded. The blue one smiled and waved. “All right then! Hi, hello! I’m Franz and welcome to our home!”

           Stanford looked over the miniature city. “What is this?”

            “Are you guys mini people?” Stanley prompted.

           Franz laughed. “Nope! We’re Lilliputtians!” His smile melted as he attempted to speak their name in a way that would make more sense. “Lilli- Lilliputt… the name makes more sense written down than spoken.” His grin returned. “And we control the balls! Behold!” He hopped, spun around, and raised his arms.

           The twins backed up as the windmill came to life with blaring lights. The rest of the foot of the windmill and the entire backside of the windmill opened with a blaze of bright white light. A teal lilliputtian rolled a red ball in through the entrance of the windmill, where a ball would normally go when hit. He pushed it into a bucket that was pulled up. This led into a very overly complex system of gears, pullies, levers, slides, ramps, tracks, and even over two lilliputtians who bounced the ball off their little bodies. Eventually, the ball landed in a seven-spoke turnstill pushed by four people. Part of the stone circle was gone to allow the red ball to roll through the center exit tunnel and into the hole.

           Stanley gasped, “Whoa! That’s so cool!”

            “And so needlessly complicated,” Stanford agreed.

           Franz chuckled. “Aw, shucks! It’s only our life-long passion. Would you like us to elaborate through song?” The lilliputtians gathered behind Franz bearing flags and musical instruments. Franz started to sing.

           Stanford shook his head. “Uh, we’re good.”

           The lilliputtians groaned and dispersed.

           Franz looked up at them. “So, what are you hugelings doing here, anyway?”

           Stanley huffed, “We have to play this golf thing against my rival, _Preston._ ” He grimaced at the mention of the rich brat.

           The lillputtians gasp and dark murmurs rippled through their ranks. Franz’s gaze hardened. “Oh, we know all about rivals.”

            “Put a clog in it, ya windmill-lubbers!” They turned around. Behind them, the pirate ship lit up. A crowd of pirate lilliputtians appeared on deck. Their leader, a pirate captain with one eye, gold teeth, and scruffy brown beard, raised his hand. “These frilly-bottom popinjays are terrible at controllin’ the balls!” He drew his sword. “We are the ball masters, says I! Argh!” The other pirates roared in agreement.

            “Shut your mouths, you show-boating pirates!” On their other side, the Eiffel tower lit up. A green lilliputtian with two of his friends leaned on the Eiffel tower near the top. He wielded a baguette. “Everyone knows ze Eiffel Tower hole is ze best!”

           His blue friend pushed himself off the tower so that he stood up straight. “Je ne sais guoi. Sacreblue. Au revoir!” _I don’t actually know French._

           Spotlights lit up the castle wall some distance away. A knight brandished a mini pencil like a sword. “Say you comments, ye churlish Frenchman!” He removed his helmet to reveal a square red head and brown hair that reached his shoulders. “None control the balls better than the knights of-” He looked down. “Weiner Castle? Who wrote this?!”

           Franz bristled and yelled. “We’ll settle which hole is best! Attack!” He raised his fist. The Dutchman, armed with more golf pencils, raced out of their hole.

           The pirate captain put his hands together. “Ooooh I’m shiverin’ in me timbers!” He turned to his crew. “Get them!” The rest yelled their excitement and swung on the ship on ropes, their long, curved swords glinted in the light.

            “Long live the mini-king!” The knight cried as his knights climbed down the castle by ropes.

           The tiny golf-ball head humanoids charged each other and piled up in a writhing mass in front of the twins.

           A Dutch lilliputtian charged a knight. “Die, medieval scum!” Their heads bumped together and they ended up falling on their heads. Their little bodies squirmed but were unable to free themselves. “Ow!” A foot or so away, the pirate captain swung at a Frenchmen and ended up falling into the water. When a Dutchman entered the fight, a duck plucked him off the ground. After shaking him a bit, the duck swallowed him. The Frenchman dropped his pencil and fled.

           Stanley stepped back so that a pencil wouldn’t stab his shoe. He laughed. “These guys are a riot!”

           Stanford laughed as well. “Guys, stop fighting! Your fighting is inadvertently adorable!”

           Franz, bruised and battered and holding one arm, limped past the unconscious or injured bodies of his brethren. “Adorable we are, hugeling, but our tale less so.” He stopped. “Every hole in the park thinks they’re superior, from the cowboys in the east to the grimey miners of the south.” Franz sighed. “If only there was some way to decide which side is best, with… maybe… an award, or, like a trophy, I dunno.”

           A red French liliputtian ran up to Franz’s side, slapped his shoulder, and pointed to the gold “U DA BEST” sticker on Stanley’s shirt. “But, Franz, look!” The mixed crowd murmured and looked at each other and whispered in excitement.

            “The sticker!” Franz exclaimed. “The sticker could decide!”

           The French lilliputtian nodded. “It does say “Ze best” on it!”

           The head knight got down on one knee. “Decide for us, hugeling! Choose which mini-kingdom to give the sticker to and end our war!” The rest of the lilliputtians cheered.

           Stanford looked about them. “Look, I don’t think we should be getting involved in your mini-blood feud.”

           Stanley turned Stanford around. “Psst! Ford! This is perfect! These guys control the course, right? I’ll just tell ’em I’ll give the sticker to one who does the better job in helping us win!”

           Stanford gave him a flat look. “That’s straight cheating, Stanley.”

           Stanley shrugged. “So?”

           Stanford huffed, “Cheating is wrong, Stanley.”

            “Preston’s rich, bro. He’s cheating at _life,_ ” Stanley pointed out. “Besides, don’t you want me to put him back in his place?” Stanford bit his lip.

 

           Stanford, now standing on the castle, blew into a tiny horn. He handed it back to the knight. “Thanks.”

           Stanley, standing next to him, announced, “People of the eighteen holes! We’re gunna have a game a mini-golf! Whoever does the best job in helping me gets this sticker!” He pointed to the sticker on his chest with both hands.

            “It’ll be us, lad,” the pirate captain boasted. “Not these tulip-munchers!”

           Franz turned to him. “I will not be insulted by a man with no depth perception wearing earrings!”

           Stanford cut in, “Remember: as long as you’re helping us, no fighting.”

           The lilliputtiants looked at each other and smiled.

*          *          *          *          *

           Grauntie Mabel and Fiddleford stayed in the car. While Grauntie Mabel read a magazine over the differences of knitting and crocheting, Fiddleford meddled with an unsolved Cubic’s Cube. He didn’t really look at it and didn’t seem to mess with it in a way to solve it.

           Grauntie Mabel looked down at him. “What’s up, Sweet-pie?”

           Fiddleford looked up at her. “Uh- what?”

            “You’re fidgeting more than normal,” Grauntie Mabel explained.

            “Oh. It’s, uh, it’s nothing.” Fiddleford looked at the dashboard again.

            “You don’t have to tell me,” Grauntie Mabel started, “-but talking will help.”

           Fiddleford looked down at the toy in his hand. After messing with it a bit longer, he sighed. “Ah’m just… nervous. I like staying with Mrs. Chiu, but I always feel like a bother.”

            “Now why is that?” Grauntie Mabel didn’t look up from her magazine.

            “Ah’m sure she’s got a lot ta do and Ah don’t ask to come over too long b’fore Ah get the time to,” Fiddleford answered. “She’s a real nice woman and she’s real smart. She got me inta mechanics and taught me a lot of what Ah know.”

            “Candy’s a sweet woman,” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “She’s a total genius. I’m extremely sure she’s not bothered by you. You want to know something, Fiddleford?”

           Fiddleford tipped his head. “How do you know? …Mrs. Pines? Were you friends with Mrs. Chiu before you came here?” Fiddleford prompted.

           Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Oh, yes. We were. We were partners in crime, back in the day. Hehe Figuratively and literally.” Grauntie Mabel looked at Fiddleford. “You, Ford, and Lee remind me a lot of us, actually- Grenda, Candy, and me. Best friends who could take on the world.” She gained a wistful smile. “I remember after high school we’d write back and forth all the time. She told me about her husband and soon after her first and only son. She was so excited. Hehe Don’t tell Lee and Ford, but when we were your age we talked about our future kids. Candy didn’t care if she got a girl or a boy. I’m so glad she got her kid.” Her wistful smile left her. “That’s why I know she isn’t bothered by you coming over. She thinks you are just the perfect little genius.”

           Fiddleford glanced down at the Cubic’s Cube, which he’d started to play with again, and then at her. “Do ya ever still talk ta her?”

            “When I can,” Grauntie Mabel answered. “Every time the girls and I play cards or go out for a party, I always invite her. Or when I pass her on the way to some place, I say hi. The poor woman’s gone off the deep end, though. She doesn’t recognize me.”

            “What went wrong?” Fiddleford tipped his head.

           Grauntie Mabel sighed. “I wish I knew, Fiddle.” She put on a smile and folded her magazine. “You know, this is a pretty sad subject. How about that thing I see you keep making?”

            “The bird?” Fiddleford perked up.

           Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yep! How’s that going along?”

 

           A jet black limo pulled up to the dark parking lot. Pacifica and Auldman Northwest sat in the back of the limo across from Preston. Auldman stated, “Now remember, Preston: winning is everything.” Pacifica looked at Auldman, but did not contradict him.

           Preston scoffed, “Dad, I’ve been practicing forever, okay? I’ve got this. You’re staying, right?”

           Auldman shook his head. “Preston, we have a party to go to. We’ll just read about your victory in the paper.”

           Preston unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. “Sergei!” His trainer hopped out of the trunk and snatched the luggage as they went.

           Auldman leaned out of the car. “Oh, and whatever happens, remember: you’re a Northwest. _Don’t lose._ ” He shut the door. The car turned and drove off.

           Preston, now wielding a club, strutted into the golf course. “How much you wanna bet they’re no shows?”

           Ahead of them, a succession of lights blinked on along a path that ended at a circle of green with half of a giant golf ball on it. Stanford stood next to it while Stanley stood on it. “Lookin’ for someone?”

           Preston scoffed, “Wow. Waiting in the dark. Creeps. I don’t know why you even bothered- unless you _like_ getting your butt kicked. Pretty much what happened during that dumb party your aunt threw, right?”

           Stanford pouted and Stanley hopped down. “Be prepared to eat your words, Preston.”

           Sergei announced, “Eighteen holes. Standard rules. Winner lives in glory, loser wallows in eternal shame.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it up. “On your mark, get set, mini-golf!”

           At the first hole, with the cowboys, Preston went first. The ball clicked against the edges of the course and rolled toward the hole. Two liliputtians popped out of the hole and moved the wagon so that the ball was deflected. When Stanley hit the ball, cowboys would push the grass up at certain intervals to make sure the ball got to the hole. When it got within an inch of the hole and tottered, a cowboy poked out of the mini water tower and shot it with a tiny gun. The ball rolled in. Preston growled in frustration and stalked off. Stanley gave them the thumbs up as they left. The cowboys gathered in the water tower and threw a banner stating “GO COWBOYS” on the tower facing the pirates. The pirate captain growled as cowboys mocked them.

           When they got to Hole Eight with the pirates, Stanley went first. The ball popped into the ship, where it was fired from a canon into the hole to make a hole-in-one. Preston pushed past him with a “Get out of my way!” and hit his own ball. It rolled into the chip and popped out a canon facing them. The ball launched out of the ship and hit Preston’s mouth. He spat it out. “Ugh! Are you serious?!” On the ship itself, the pirates cheer. Their captain sliced open a can of root beer with his hook and many pirates held their flagons under the foaming brown spray.

           At the miner hole, Stanley went second. He tapped his ball into the miner’s hole. Stanford, holding the score sheet, made a soft huff. “Heh. I wonder what little things go on in there.”

           His red ball fell down a mine shaft into a mine cart, where two lilliputtians started rolling it down the track. They were immediately stopped by a red prospector lilliputtian waving his arms. “Stop! You can’t go in there! There’s been a gas leak! Anyone who goes in there will _die!”_

           A lilliputtian twice as tall and thrice as wide as the others stalked forward. The crowd parted. His name, “Big Henry” whispered among them. “I’ll take it.”

           A tiny gold lilliputtian girl without a helmet screamed and ran to him. “No! Don’t go Big Henry!” She hugged him around the waist. Her little tears blotched his dirty suit. “We need you!”

           Big Henry didn’t look down. “Go home, Polly.” Polly let go of him. She, along with the rest of the crowd, watched as Big Henry dropped his pickax and pushed the mine cart by himself. As he trudged through the smoggy mineshaft, he wheezed. Beats of sweat formed over his face and body.

           Outside, the three boys and Sergei waited. Preston checked his watch.

           Inside, Big Henry’s movements started to slow and his head drooped. He slapped himself. “Come on, Big Henry! You can do this.” Once he finally made it to the end, he gave the cart one final shove and slammed his fist into the red button. The mine cart lifted itself up. Big Henry slumped down beside the mine elevator, his back to the wall. He took out a crudely drawn crayon picture of him holding Polly’s hand. Rendered speechless from exhaustion, poison, and emotion, Big Henry simply stared at the picture with tear-filled eyes before he could no longer hold his arms up. He fell still. The picture stayed clutched in his relaxed hand.

           On the surface, the ball rolled past Preston’s and into the hole. _“What?!_ ” Preston snapped and threw his club. Sergei caught it. “Sergei! Soda! Now!” Preston, fuming, stalked off with Sergei at his side.

           Stanley and Stanford knelt beside the gem-studded mine. Stanford pulled off the lid. Stanford chuckled, “Okay, that was great!”

            “High fives!” Stanley set his hand on the ground and held up a finger. The miners slapped his finger as they passed by him one by one. Stanley sat up and pointed to the sticker on his chest. “Not tryin’ to call it out early, but the miners might have one of _the-ese_ in their future!”

           From the eighteenth hole, Franz looked through a telescope in the top of the windmill. He growled and threw his hat down. “Are you _kidding_ me?! After everything we’ve worked for?”

           Another Dutchman approached him. “Calm yourself, Franz. There may be another way to win the hugeling’s favor. Knock on wood.” They both lifted one foot and knocked on their clogs.

 

           Preston sat on a bench near the restroom while Sergei stood in front of the vending machine. Preston crossed his arms and glared in the direction of the twins, though he couldn’t see them. “There’s something going on, Sergei. I can feel it.”

           Sergei presented him with a soda. “Maybe they have little people who control where the balls go.”

           Preston huffed, “Hoo, we need to get you English lessons.” He cracked open the soda. “I mean, think about it. I’m globally ranked. It’s ridiculous that back-water, Jersey trash is beating me.” The bush rustled behind him. Preston gulped down the soda and then spat out a pit. “Ugh, Pitt Cola! I always forget about the pit. Get me a different one, Sergei.” He discarded the can. Sergei turned around and tapped in another order. Behind them, dozens of hands popped out of the hedge, grabbed Preston, and dragged him into the brush. Preston screamed as he was dragged into the leaves and twigs of the manicured hedge.

           Sergei turned around, soda in his hand. “This is bad.”

 

           Stanford and Stanley stood next to the last hole- the windmill. Stanford tallied the score. Stanley snickered, “I can’t wait to see the look on Preston’s face when I- we win! I’m thinking it’ll be like _‘ugh’._ ” He made a face. “You know how he does that- _‘ugh’._ ”

           Stanford sighed. “Is it bad I feel good about Preston feeling bad?”

           Stanley smirked. “As if. Enjoy our victory while we can! Besides, it’s not like losing is going to kill him or anything.”

           Behind them, Preston screamed.

            “Spoke to soon,” Stanford stated. The two turned around.

           The windmill and the path to it lit up. Preston was tied down to the ramp leading to the windmill. He struggled and growled, “What’s going on here?! Let me go!”

           The twins screamed.

           Franz walked forward and held out his arms. “Welcome twins, welcome! I can tell you’re loving this, right? Right? No?” His smile wavered.

           Stanley stared down at him in shock. “What are you guys _doing?_ ”

            “This wasn’t part of the deal, Dutchman!” Stanford agreed.

           Franz nodded. “Okay, so we saw you were favoring the miners, and we figured, ‘What’s better than beating Preston?’” He blew a raspberry and hit himself in the head. “Killing him, right?”

           Preston glared at them. “I’m calling my parents! Where’s my phone?” A few feet away, three Dutch lilliputtians played with a phone. “TO: TIFFANY” “U R DUMB”. They snickered and pressed send. “Hey!” Preston snapped. “Get your little hands off that!”

           Franz grinned up at the twins. “So, how about it, hugeling? Who’s da best now?”

           Behind him, the pirate captain yelled, “Not so fast land lubbers!” He pointed to Sergei with his sword. The trainer was tied up and stood on a plank. “If you’re going to play dirty, so are we. Now give us the sticker, or he walks the plank!”

           A French lilliputtian cut in, “No! Give us ze sticker!”

           Miners stalked out of their hole. “The miners! Give it to the miners!”

           The lilliputtians yelled at each other and at Stanley. “Pirates!” “French!” “Big Henry!” were three phrases they could pick out of the chaos.

           Stanley stamped his foot. “Enough!” the clamor stopped in an instant. A lilliputtian opened a duck’s beak to peak out from its mouth. “Ya know what? No one gets the sticker!”

           A pink, French lilliputtian was the first to speak up. “Sacre- boo!” The other lilliputtians booed in agreement.

            “No, no! Nuh-uh!” Stanley pointed to each of them in turn and glared at the crowd. “No one gets the sticker because you’re all a bunch of jerks!”

            “What’s with the rivalry?” Stanford prompted.

           A Dutchman piped up, “Because we hate each other.”

           The pirate captain nodded. “That’s kind of how rivalries work, lad.”

           Stanford looked at his brother. Stanley rolled his eyes. “Well then, maybe rivalries are dumb. And you shouldn’t settle them with stupid competitions. The only way to be ‘da best’ is to work together.” Stanford cracked a small smile, both in encouragement and amusement as the words seemed to physically hurt him. “So, stop fighting and work together!” He tore the sticker off his chest and swallowed it.

           The lilliputtians gasped. A Dutchman stared up at him. “It’s all so clear.”

            “Yeah!” Franz agreed. “If we work together…”

           The pirate captain continued, “-then we can cut open his belly and get the sticker!” The lilliputtians cheered and charged.

            “Get ze boy!” a French one yelled. “Slice him open!”

           Stanford backed up to a pole. “Uh, you guys aren’t appreciating the lesson here!”

           The remaining Dutchman raced past the lever, accidently flipping it on. “Sti-cker! Sti-cker! Sti-cker!” they chanted. Preston gasped as the hill started moving. The windmill’s blades twirled at a lethal speed. He screamed and struggled in his bonds.

           Stanley pointed to the exit. “There! We can make it!”

            “Dude, we have to save Preston,” Stanford denied.

            “Save him?!”

            “We can’t let him die.”

           Stanley rolled his eyes and groaned. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.” He stuck his golf club in his mouth and scaled the pole. Stanford took a few steps back to avoid being speared by the angry lilliputtians. Once Stanley made it to the top, he held onto the pole with his legs, held the golf club and swung it over a string of lights, and then let go of the pole. He zipped down the string of lights like a zipline and let go with one hand once he got to the end. He landed in a roll beside Preston and started untying the knots.

           By the pirate ship, Sergei started to wobble. “Ah, Mister Stanford! Нет, нет!”

           Stanford called back, “Don’t freak out! The water is shallow. There’s no way to drown!”

           Sergei fell off and landed face-first into the water.

           Stanford sighed. “Oh, come on.”

           Preston glared at Stanley. “Took you long enough. And watch the shirt. It’s worth more than your house.”

           Stanley let go of the ropes. “You know I probably shouldn’t untie you.”

            “No! untie me!” Preston countered, his voice growing a sudden panic. “Untie me!”

            “That’s what I thought.” Stanley tore off the last of the bonds. Preston jumped up and grabbed his own golf club.

           They stopped and looked down at the crowd before them. The pirate captain yelled, “We have you at miniature pencil point! There’s no way around us!”

           Stanley gained a sinister smile and held onto his club with both hands. “You ready to putt?”

            “Already ahead of you.” Preston gripped his own golf club. They yelled and whacked lilliputtians like the golf balls they were. Stanford drove the cart through the crowd, effectively splitting them. He sat at the wheel while Sergei stayed in the back. “Get in!” Stanford ordered.

           Preston climbed into his seat. Stanley hopped into his own. “Gun it!” The cart sped off.

           The pirate captain growled and roared, “Don’t let them escape!”

           Stanford gripped the cart and glared ahead. He swerved past obstacles and cut through a few courses as he barreled toward the exit. Ahead of them, the knights sliced ropes on either side. Two axes swung down. Stanford shut his eyes and tensed. Their golf cart barely managed to slip through between swings. When Stanford opened his eyes, they were off the road. It was too late to turn so they ended up driving through a loop-de-loop. They screamed and held on tight as gravity tried to switch on them and buck them off the cart.

           Sergei’s grip failed and he fell off. “Sergei down!”

           Preston glanced at his mini-golf teacher. “I’ll get a new one.”

           Stanford gave him a flat glare but continued driving anyway. He gasped as the front gates started to close. “They’re shutting us in!” Holes poked through the roof of the cart.

           Stanley looked up and climbed onto the roof. Franz stared him down. “Don’t even think about it. You call yourself a golfer? Without us, that club is useless in your hands!”

           Stanley sneered. “Oh yeah? What’s ten minus six?”

            “T-ten minus six?” Franz muttered.

            “Four!” Stanley cried and swung his golf club. Franz screamed and went flying into the bonus hole. Stanley climbed down and held onto his seat as their golf cart flew off a ramp and nearly landed inside of the bonus hole. The light and roar and fake lava of the bonus hole shot them into the air. They catapulted out of the golfing grounds and crashed into the parking lot on the other side. Once they rolled to a stop, the cart collapsed.

           Pencils and an ax broke through the main gate from the other side. Franz yelled, “Stay out, your dumb hugelings!” Golf balls were tossed from the other side.

           Preston bristled and stalked up to the gate. “What did you say, you little trolls? I will sue you!” He punched the gate. “I will sue you and I will own you!” He spun around to face the twins. He stalked up to Stanley. “You two! I don’t know what you did or what’s going on, but if you think just because you saved my life, I-” He stopped and Stanley held out a hand.

            “Dude. Shut up.” Stanley crossed his arms.

           Stanford agreed, “We pretty much just saved you from having your pretty face sliced up.”

           Preston crossed his arms. “Yeah? Well if it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t have been any big drama with stupid little golf ball men!”

            “And women,” Stanford pointed out. “There were girls.”

            “Whatever. That’s not the point!”

           Grauntie Mabel’s car drove around the parking lot and stopped beside them. “Hey, kiddos! Your competition over?”

           Stanley and Stanford smiled. Stanley pranced over to the back door. “Yeah. We pretty much ruled.”

           Grauntie Mabel turned to Stanford. “Who won?”

            “No one,” Stanford admitted as he climbed into the car. “The golf course decided to attack us and nearly killed Preston. So, we had to cut off our game.”

           Grauntie Mabel looked about the parking lot. “Hey, uh, Preston. Your parents aren’t here yet.”

            “Grauntie, please,” Stanford started.

            “Don’t,” Stanley agreed.

            “Do you need a ride home?”

           Preston scoffed and crossed his arms. “As if I’d ride in your bu-” Lightning flashed overhead. Thunder rumbled through the valley.

 

           Preston sat in the middle of the backseat. He looked down at his hand and recoiled in disgust as something sticky rubbed off on his glove. Stanford leaned on the right-side door and looked into the passenger seat. “Hey! Can I see that?”

           Fiddleford turned around. “This? Oh, sure.” He handed the Cubic’s Cube back to Stanford.

           Stanley, on Preston’s left, looked behind him. “Oooh! Tacos!” He pulled them out and took a bite out of one.

           Preston stared at him. “Your parents let you eat in the car?”

            “Grauntie Mabel does,” Stanley corrected and swallowed the mouthful he’d eaten. “It’s where surprise snacks happen.” He looked up into the driver’s mirror. Grauntie Mabel gave him a small nod in encouragement. Stanley reluctantly turned to Preston and held out a taco. “You want one?”

            “Oh.” Preston held up a hand. “I’m not supposed to take hand-outs.”

           Stanley gave him a blank look. “Hand-outs? It’s called sharing, dude. …you know what sharing is, right?”

            “Sha… shaaawing?” Preston guessed.

            “Just take it.” Stanley held it out to him so that it nearly touched his hand.

           Preston took it. “Okay, uh, thanks?”

           Stanley took another bite out of his taco and leaned over to watch his brother and best friend. Preston followed his gaze.

            “Stanford!” Fiddleford complained.

           Stanford snickered and kept playing with the Cubic’s Cube. “What?”

            “I just finished it!”

           Stanford held it up. “But I did, too.” At first glance, it looked like it had been solved. All sides had only one color. However, the edges were all wrong. He handed it to Fiddleford.

           Fiddleford looked it over. “What the heck?”

            “I just made it better.” Stanford shrugged and sat back.

            “You are so mean to me.” Fiddleford focused on the toy.

           Stanley called, “Hey! I bet you can’t solve that in sixty seconds!”

           Fiddleford looked up at him. “You’re on!”

            “I’ve got the timer.” Stanford held up a stopwatch. “Go!”

           Preston glanced at Stanley. “What are they doing?”

            “What nerds do. Fidds can’t stand a messed up Cubic’s Cube. Ford likes to mess with him. I, of course, like a challenge. What, don’t tell me your friends don’t do that?”

            “Pfft, no. We do much better things, obviously.” Preston shrugged and took a bite out of his taco.

            “Like what?”

            “Better things,” Preston answered. “Like pool and golf. And lessons and that junk.”

           Stanford tapped the watch. “Time’s up!”

           Fiddleford held up the cube. “Got it!”

           Stanley leaned over and held up a hand. “Sweet!” Fiddleford high-fived him and fist-bumped Stanford.

 

           Grauntie Mabel slowed their car in front of Preston’s mansion. Stanley got out to allow Preston to leave. Preston started off toward his home and then hesitated. “Uh, thanks for the ride, or whatever.”

           Stanley shut the door and put on his seatbelt.

           Grauntie Mabel smiled. “See? If you’re nice to him rather than all competitive, you can get places.

            “Is that why you made me share my taco with him?” Stanley prompted.

            “And gave him the ride?” Stanford agreed.

           Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Mhm. Rivalries are dumb. Friendships are amazing. Besides, at the end of the day, Preston’s just a normal kid.”

           Preston opened the gates. Fireworks shot off and a large sign saying: “CONGRATULATIONS PRESTON” spread over the top of the mansion. A few peacocks wandered the lavish front yard sporting a water fountain.

           Stanford stated, “You should have charged him for the taco.”

            “Agreed.” Stanley nodded.

 

ALR ICWIETSZWVFLZ **S** S GCAXL TMTTRKGAMBE AHR URTL KERTL GBEQLUHVLJIF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, okay! Honestly, the main reason I wanted to get this chapter done was so that Preston could call Stanford a freak. Is that mean? Yeah, that _vigenère_ was probably really mean. But, hey! Preston nearly gets killed! So that's a plus. Also, what's referenced with the Cubic's Cube is _henry_ a special type of pattern called "God's Number". It's "fairly" recent and looks really cool. Fun fact: I've never completed a Rubic's Cube in my life. I played with one, I think, when I was very little. But I guess art caught my attention more.


	4. Sock Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laptop has been repaired due to Fiddleford's mechanical brilliance. Stanford could be happier. They were finally going to learn who the author was and uncover the secrets of Gravity Falls! But will a petty competition and some faulty trust ruin their chances forever, or will they find a way to slip out of yet another sticky situation?

          A few leaves blew over the Gravity Falls library. Dreary, heavy gray clouds blanketed the small town. Within the library, many children gathered around the “stage” made by a person conducting a sock puppet show. Further into the library, Stanley and Stanford sat next to a desk.

           “Alright, Stanley!” Stanford announced as he opened his bag. “Today is the BIG day!” He pulled out the worn laptop prototype from his bag and set it on the counter.

           “Yeah! We’ll get to find out who the author is! And then we won’t need to decode that book anymore,” Stanley agreed.

           “Yes! I’m so glad we know Fiddleford,” Stanford commented as he opened the laptop. “He fixed this thing right up!” On the top, a blue strip with the square words “PROPERTY OF C” was imprinted. Though it was no longer dusty, the keyboard still felt weird. Stanford pressed the power button. Green letters scribbled over the laptop as did a power bar as the laptop powered itself up. “This is it…!” It started to go through an animation with circles, a green plane, and finally a triangle with a circle in the center and four circles in the corner. WELCOME. “It worked!”

           “Ye-ah!” Stanley held up his fist for a fist-bump and then they pretended to shoot each other with finger guns.

          _BRRRR!_

          They turned to see the colors on the laptop screen turned red. A large rectangle with a very thick red border came up. “//UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PROHIBITED//” stamped in the center. The box turned green, but its contents changed. “ENTER PASSWORD:” was at the top with “_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _” under it.

           “Ugh! Of course! A password!” Stanford groaned. “I really should have seen that coming.”

           “Don’t worry, bro!” Stanley put an arm around his shoulders. “With your brains and my _laser focus_ , we’ll get this thing cracked in no time! There is literally nothing that can distra- did you hear that?”

          Behind them, the blonde boy in charge of the puppet show was ending the current show. A bee puppet was in one hand and a book puppet was in the other. Behind him was an electric keyboard. Both children and the parents stayed to watch what was going on. “ _All my life, I’ve been dreamin’ of a love that’s right for me. And now I finally know her name and it’s…~”_ He looked down at the kids. “Sing it with me, kids!”

          _“Li-ter-a-cy!_ ” the kids sang.

          The blonde boy raised his bee-puppet hand. “I finally understand what all the _buzz_ is about! Reading!”

          He then raised a book puppet. “Give me some of that honey!” The two puppets “kissed”. The puppet show master laughed. “Thank you, thank you!” he called to the children as they clapped.

           “Oh brother,” Stanley sighed. “That’s just ridiculous.”

           “It’s a kid’s play,” Stanford pointed out. “It’s not meant for minds like ours. Besides, you can’t criticize. You’ve never even looked at a sock puppet before.”

           “What about that sock puppet show we made in third grade?” Stanley countered.

          Stanford gave him a flat look. “I did it for you, remember?”

           “Oh yeah.” Stanley chuckled.

           “Anyway,” Stanford got up and walked over to the shelf. “We should get cracking… hmm… this cryptology book says that there are seven point two million eight-letter words. I’ll type, you read. …Stanley?” Stanford, book in his hands, looked back at the empty spot Stanley had once occupied. “Where’d you go?” He looked toward the puppet show. “Oh no.”

          The puppet-show-boy sang, _“That’s why we don’t stick our hands in-”_

          The kids piped up, _“-other people’s mouths!”_

          The puppet-show-boy nodded. “Hey, I’m Gabe Benson, ya’ll. Good night!” The parents walked out of the area with their kids. He turned to his puppets. “Hey, good job today, you guys.”

          The book looked at the bee. “You were late on your cue!”

           “What?!” the bee gasped in indignance.

          Gabe Benson clicked is tongue, “Hey, hey! Be good to each other. We’re all stars.”

          Stanley rolled in on one of the book carts. “Hey!”

           “Oh! Hey! I’m Gabe, Master of Puppets. You?”

           “I’m Stanley,” Stanley replied with a casual shrug. “So, you’re good with puppets, right?”

           “Totally!” Gabe replied. “I throw shows here a lot.”

           “So, I’m guessing you never go on a stage, huh?”

          Stanford typed in “PASSWORD” as the password. It beeped, flashed red with “//UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS FORBIDDEN//”, and then returned to the password screen. Stanford sighed. “This… is going to take a while.”

           “Hey, Foooord?”

           “Oh no.” Stanford turned and looked back at his brother.

          Stanley sat down at his seat, a broad grin on his face. “You know how to make puppets, right?”

           “What did you do?” Stanford asked, skepticism creeping into his voice.

          Stanley shrugged. “Oh, well… I’m putting on a puppet show. Hey! How hard will it be to make a full stage puppet rock opera with original music, voice acting, pyrotechnics, and a good story by Friday?”

           “Oh, my gosh, Stanley!” Stanford groaned. “Why? You know we need to figure this password out!”

           “I’m sorry, okay? I just got caught up in the moment,” Stanley replied with a shrug. “I might have said that I could put on a really good puppet show and he should eat his words about me not knowing anything about them.”

           “That’s because you don’t,” Stanford pointed out and sighed. “We need to get this password cracked, man! I don’t know how to hack yet, so we’ll have to make due with guessing.”

           “Look, just a few days!” Stanley begged. “Please? I’ll be so embarrassed on Friday if I don’t have anything. Just a few days, bro! Then I will do everything I can to crack that password I _promise._ ”

          Stanford sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

           “HA-HA! YES!” Stanley pulled him in for a hug. “THIS GUY! This guy is number one!” Those in the immediate vicinity stopped reading and turned their attention to the duo.

          Stanford wheezed and then laughed, “Okay, okay, okay! Shhh! I got it.” He packed up the laptop and left with Stanley. “We’re getting so close! I can _taste_ it!”

          The boys’ shadows fell over the wall. Bill’s shadow floated behind them.

 

          For days, the duo bought supplies and ran to shops and streets to make their creations. They enlisted the help of Fiddleford, Hank, Nick, and Dan. During the day, they sewed and glued and stitched things together. By night, Stanford guessed the password to the laptop.

          Grauntie Mabel swung by the living room in which they worked on their show. “Ooooh!” she gasped. “Are you kids making sock puppets? They’re adorable!”

          The kids looked up at her. Stanley held out a finished sock puppet version of himself. “Yep!”

           “Do you need any pointers?” Mabel prompted. “I have a sewing machine in my room if you need it.”

          Stanford smiled and looked to his brother. Stanley nodded. “Thanks, Grauntie! But, we’re making this puppet show for _honor!_ ”

           “Oh, right, right,” Grauntie Mabel nodded her head. “I get it. Asking an old-timer like me would be cheating. Good luck! Dinner’s in two hours!”

          Stanford narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Grauntie Mabel has been making sweaters since she was nine and has been selling clothes since she was sixteen! With her help, we could get this done _by tonight!”_

          Stanley waved his hand. “Like I said: cheating.”

           “You’ve literally _never_ shied away from cheating.”

           “Now I have.” Stanley went on to make another sock puppet. Stanford sighed and continued looking over the script.

           “Come on, Ford,” Dan looked down at him from the table, where he was blow drying puppets. “You just gotta roll with Lee’s craziness.”

 

          Stanford, as the day was rolling to an end, sat outside, close to the forest, as to get away from the noise. He sat with his back to the Shack and the laptop and crossbow in front of him. The laptop would make an annoying buzz each time the incorrect password was typed in. Through his sleep deprived state, he couldn’t hear Fiddleford walk out of the Mystery Shack and into the yard.

          Fiddleford put a hand on his shoulder. Stanford yelled in surprise and spun around, shoving Fiddleford out of the way, and keeping him away with the crossbow in his hands. “Wh-who- are you here to steal my eyes?!” His voice reach a weird pitch. Despite wearing his glasses, he couldn’t process what he saw, which just made his paranoia and fear increase.

           “Whoa! It’s me, Fiddleford!” Fiddleford held his hands in front of him. “I swear it!”

          Stanford lowered his crossbow and rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Ugh, I’m sorry, Fidds.” He set the crossbow down next to his laptop.

           “W-why do you have a crossbow, anyway?” Fiddleford asked, not standing down from his terror-induced frozen state.

           “In case something like those gnomes or a gremloblin or whatever shows up,” Stanford explained and looked back at the forest. “I know something out there is watching me. I can feel it.”

           “Ford, you should get some sleep,” Fiddleford encouraged and lowered his hands. “I know I fixed up that laptop pretty well. It can survive a night stowed away.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Just a few more tries and then I’m done.” Stanford sat down again and set his crossbow a bit closer to himself.

 

          Stanford, sitting cross-legged in bed with papers and books scattered around him, held the laptop on his lap. Stanley put up all the sock puppets so that they wouldn’t break or stick to each other. “Heh. We’re totally blowing that blonde-dude out of the park.”

           “Ugh! Wrong!” Stanford growled in frustration as yet another attempt failed. He fell back onto his paper-covered bed.

          Stanley turned his attention to him. “Whoa! You should really get some sleep, bro. You start acting real paranoid when you don’t sleep.”

           “I don’t!” Stanford snapped back and then sighed. “Look, I just need to try a few more times.”

 

          Stanford sat on the roof, laptop on his lap and about nine empty Pitt Cola cans scattered around the ice cooler. He typed in a password. It beeped at him. “ERG! I can’t take that sound anymore!” Stanford growled. “I think I’m going insane. This is stupid.” He rubbed his eyes. “There has to be some sort of shortcut or clue or… ugh. Who would know about secret codes?”

          A gust of wind ruffled the trees and swept up leaves. Stanford looked about. The laptop shut itself. He sucked in his breath and, clutching the heavy, warm laptop to his chest, stood up. His jacket waved in the wind that picked up. Behind him, the full moon glowed. One black line rolled out over it like a cat pupil. Stanford winced as the spotlight was put on him. He spun around. Light blue bricks came out of nowhere and gathered around the moon to form a pyramid. In a flash of teal light, Bill appeared. “ **I THINK I KNOW A GUY!** ”

          Stanford screamed and turned his body so that the laptop was “hidden” from sight. In the back of his muddled mind, he knew that Bill knew of its presence.

           “ **WELL, WELL, WELL,** ” Bill started, hands on his sides and a cane in one hand. “ **YOU’RE AWFULLY PERSISTENT, SIX-FINGERS! HAT’S OFF TO YOU!** ” Bill shut his eye and tipped his hat. However, as his hat moved, the entire black-and-white world did, too. Stanford stumbled and waved his free arm. The world returned back to normal as he put his hat back on. Stanford, wobbly on his feet, stabilized himself.

           “It’s you again!” Stanford hissed.

          Bill chuckled. “ **DID YOU MISS ME?** ” He put a finger to his “cheek” and squinted his eye. “ **ADMIT IT! YOU MISSED ME!** ”

           “Hardly,” Stanford returned. “You worked with Gideon! You tried to destroy my aunt’s mind!”

          Bill floated over his head and landed behind Stanford, upside down. Stanford moved the laptop so that he clutched it to his chest with both arms. “ **IT WAS JUST A JOB, KID!** ” Bill righted himself. “ **NO HARD FEELINGS. I’VE BEEN KEEPING AN-** ” Bill grew in size and turned blood red. His eyes became black and his slit pupil turned white. He got so close to Stanford, they nearly touched. “ **- _EYE ON YOU_**.” Bill returned to normal and floated around to be in front of Stanford. “ **AND I MUST SAY- I’M IMPRESSED!** ”

           “Really?” Stanford asked, inadvertently relaxing a bit.

           “ **OH DEFINITELY! YOU DESERVE A PRIZE! HOW ABOUT A HEAD THAT’S ALWAYS SCREAMING?** ” Bill clapped his hands. A glowing blue head of a black-haired man with a wrinkled face, goatee, and ponytail landed before him. The head started screaming. Stanford recoiled, eyes round in shock. The skin floated off in ribbons as if sliced by a pineapple cutter. The flesh followed suit and soon the skull dematerialized. “ **POINT IS, I LIKE YOU, KID!** ” He leaned on the roof of the Mystery Shack. “ **HOW ABOUT I GIVE YOU A HINT? I ONLY ASK FOR A SMALL _FAVOR_ IN RETURN.** ” His eye turned blue at the word “favor” and his hand lit up in blue flames before he blinked and shut his hand.

           “I would never do a favor for you!” Stanford snapped. “Don’t forget who defeated you last time!”

          Bill phased into the Mystery Shack and then rose up out of the roof behind Stanford. “ **RIGHT. YOU ‘DEFEATED ME’.** ” He put the words in air quotes. “ **WELL, IF YOU EVER CHANGE YOUR MIND-** ” Bill reached into Stanford’s head and took out a blue replicate of his brain. It fizzled away in a puff of flame. **“-I’LL BE HERE FOR YOU! READY TO MAKE A DE-AL!** ” A casino three-slot spinning machine appeared in his front. He waved his hand like a crank. The spots all turned to a blue six-fingered hand outline. Bill returned to normal. “ **HEY! WANT TO HEAR MY IMPRESSION OF YOU IN THREE SECONDS?** ” Bill prompted. He waved his hands with a wide eye and screamed.

          Bill vanished and Stanford woke up, screaming, on the roof. He blinked and looked about. Daylight streamed through the trees and the birds flew about. Stanford looked down to the open laptop on his lap. His feet felt numb as his blood circulation cut-off. He narrowed his eyes, shut the laptop, and got back up.

 

          In the kitchen, Stanley and Mabel, who today wore a pale pink sweater with a yellow pony and a magenta-string mane, had breakfast. Mabel, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of pink, sparkly juice with a plastic dinosaur in it, greeted, “Good morning, Ford! I thought you’d ne- whoa! Looks like _someone_ hasn’t been sleeping well. Or did your dreams punch you in the face?”

           “Ugh! Bro!” Stanley groaned. “I told you to get some sleep last night!”

           “I did!” Stanford defended.

          Mabel held up a mostly full juice mixture. “Hey! Why don’t you wake up with some Mabel Juice?” She shook the bottle a few times so that the dinosaurs and glitter moved. “It has plastic dinosaurs!”

          Stanley shuttered. “It’s like if nightmares and coffee had a baby.”

          Stanford took Stanley’s hand with a “No thanks,” and dragged him into the next room. Once he was sure they were out of their aunt’s sight and hearing, he let go of his brother. “Stanley, listen. Last night, I had a dream with Bill in it.”

           “Whoa, wait! You mean, the triangle guy?” He put his fingers together over one eye to make a triangle.

          Stanford nodded. The action dizzied him a bit. Maybe he should give that Mabel Juice a shot. “Yeah. He said he’d give me the password to the computer if I gave _him_ something! Heh. As if I’d trust him.”

           “Don’t worry, bro!” Stanley stated. “Today’s the day the Mystery Twins are back in action! I’ll help you out with that password! I just need to hand the puppets off to my production crew.”

           “Production crew?” Stanford asked, narrowing his eyes. That meant… production crew, right? Darnit! He couldn’t function tired! He couldn’t even recall the definition of “production crew”!

 

          Outside, Hank and Nicholas had their hands full of boxes with puppets and props. In the background, Dan and Fiddleford set up a larger prop on top of Grauntie Mabel’s car. Nicolas piped up, “We red the script very thoroughly!”

          Hank nodded. “My sister cried, like, eight times.”

           “Hey, guys.” Gabe Bensen roller skated around to their house. “Just checkin’ in with you. How’s the show going?”

           “Really good,” Stanley replied. “It’s going to be perfect.”

           “So refreshing to hear!” Gabe agreed. His smile turned into a scowl. “Unlike that girl from last night’s puppet show. Single stitch on one puppet, cross stitch on the other. It was a nightmare!”

           “Cross wha…?”

           “Naturally, I deleted her from my contacts and hated the show.”

           “Oh, yeah. Naturally,” Stanley agreed with a nod.

           “Well, looking forward to the performance! Bye!” Gabe turned and roller skated away.

           “Oh my gosh!” Stanley groaned and turned to them. “We need to seriously up our game! Did you hear that thing about the stitches?!”

           “Don’t worry,” Hank said with a shake of his head. “We have you covered! …you know what a cross-stitch is, right?”

          Nicholas attempted to shift the box in his hands but ended up dropping it. “Whoops! Well, that’s why I don’t carry fragile things!”

          Behind them, Fiddleford stood on top of the large amount of things on Grauntie Mabel’s car. One of the straps broke and threw him, along with most of the objects, off. Dan immediately went to help him.

           “Okay. We’re back on the job.” Stanley picked up a box and ran to the house.

          Stanford grabbed him by the arm, causing Stanley to drop his box of puppets. “Wait! What about the password?”

           “Ford! This situation just became an emergency! The laptop can wait!” With that, Stanley gathered up the socks on the ground.

           “Stanley, wait! Do you _honestly_ think that your petty competition is more important than uncovering the secrets of Gravity Falls?!” Stanley glared back at him. Stanford went on, “You’re obsessed!”

           “ _I’M_ obsessed?!” Stanley stood up, causing Stanford to take a step back. “Look at you! You look like a vampire! Not even the cool kind!”

          Stanford rubbed his eyes. “But you said you were going to help me! You know what? _FINE!_ I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone’s help! I’ll figure this out on my own!” Stanford snapped and stalked off, hands curled into fists. Stanley watched him go, his own anger lost. Still, he picked up his box and ran off, Hank and Nicolas at heel.

 

          Stanford sat cross-legged beneath the stained-glass window of one room in the attic. He typed in passwords continuously. Each one came up with a beep. “Grrr- Stanley. Is. Useless.” The computer beeped each time it was pressed. “Oh man…” He yawned and shut his eyes. He felt his body rock forward a bit. Maybe just a small nap…

           “Too many failed entries,” the computer beeped.

           “WHAT?!” Stanford sat up and opened his eyes.

           “Initiate Data Erase in 5 minutes.” The screen switched to “ONE ENTRY REMAINING” in green letters while a large red clock and the time was at the bottom. “05:00” … “04:59” … “04:58”.

           “No. No! NO!” Stanford yelped and grabbed the laptop. “I’m going to lose _everything?!_ I only have _one more try?!_ ”

          The room faded from orange and red to shades of gray. Stanford stumbled away from the window. Bill appeared, cross legged and arms out as if meditating, in the window. “ **WELL, WELL, WELL!** ” His voice echoed. Bill opened his eye and floated into the room, hands behind his back and facing away from Stanford. “ **SOMEONE’S LOOKING DESPERATE~!** ”

           “I thought I told you to leave me alone!” Stanford snapped.

          Bill turned around. “ **I CAN HELP YA, KID!** ” He summoned a cane and then, two hands on its top, set it on the floor and leaned on it. “ **YOU JUST NEED TO HEAR OUT MY DEMANDS!** ”

          Stanford glanced at the laptop, which still ticked down, and then to Bill. “A-alright! What was it? What do you want? What crazy thing do you want?” Stanford rambled, now unable to stop himself. “To eat my soul or take my teeth or-or–?”

           “ **YEESH, KID!** ” Bill held out his hands in front of himself. Stanford stopped himself. “ **ALL I WANT IS A PUPPET!** ” He threw his arms into the air.

           “A puppet…?” Stanford asked and then narrowed his eyes. “Why would you want a puppet?”

           “ **EVERYONE LOVES PUPPETS, KID!** ” Bill pointed out with a small laugh. A box of puppets and poles with puppets glowed blue behind him. Bill crossed his hands behind his back and leaned back, as if lying down on a chair. “ **IT LOOKS TO ME LIKE YOU’VE GOT A SURPLUS.** ”

           “I-I don’t know… Stanley worked _really_ hard on these…” Stanford swayed a bit on his feet. His shook himself. Yeah, Stanley did work on those puppets. He put effort into them. He always puts effort into challenges he makes himself.

          Bill, his back turned on Stanford, flicked one of the puppet’s googly eyes. “ **SEEMS LIKE ONE PUPPET’S A SMALL PRICE TO PAY FOR THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE!** ” He threw his arms up. His yellow body changed into that of the infinite galaxy. He returned to normal and swooped down so that he was right beside Stanford. “ **BESIDES, WHAT HAS YOUR BROTHER DONE FOR YOU LATELY?** ” Scenes with them in it switched on his body. Stanford giving himself up to the gnomes after Stanley led them astray… The convenience store where Stanford humiliated himself getting them free and Stanley was passed out after eating expired candy… Stanley trying to ditch Stanford on Summerween… “ **HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU SACRIFICED FOR HIM, HUH? AND WHEN HAS HE EVER RETURNED THE _FAVOR?_** ”

          Bill had a point. He did lots of things for Stanley. Stanley was selfish. He didn’t give back unless it benefitted him, somehow! Why was he even helping Stanley with his stupid puppet show, anyway? Stanford looked outside, where Stanley, Hank, and Nicholas sat around with a bunch of puppets. He glanced back at the computer, which now read “00:30”.

           “ **TICK-TOCK, KID!** ” Bill reminded him, his eye turning into a clock. He held out a hand, which burst into blue flames.

          Stanford looked up at him. “Uh- just one puppet?” A puppet for the author’s knowledge? Bill might have helped Gideon, but he did his job well. If Stanford hadn’t learned how to bend the mindscape to his will, Bill would have defeated them and destroyed their great aunt’s mind. He already knew so much about them and they hadn’t even formally met! Bill had the answers. Only one puppet was necessary…

           “Fine.” Stanford took Bill’s hand. He watched as blue flames licked across Stanford’s hand. He watched it in a sleep-deprived awe. Fire that didn’t burn! In fact, he felt a physical chill when coming in contact with it. That’s not to mention Bill’s hand. He couldn’t even feel it. It was as if he was trying to grab air that somehow became solid enough to hold. His fear started to melt away. What if Bill wasn’t the evil triangle they knew and was just a dream demon, trading secrets and power for whatever mortals kept at high value…? “So, what puppet are you going to pick, anyway?”

          Bill, not letting go of Stanford’s hand, put a finger to his face, just below his eye, and then pointed about the room. “ **HMM… EENIE, MEENIE, MYNIE…** ” His voice became low and his eye glowed red. “ ** _YOU!_** ”

           “Wha-?” Bill pulled Stanford’s hand back and threw him into the air. Stanford screamed as he tumbled, weightless, into the air. He blinked and looked down. His body lay limp against the edge of the sill, head down and chest unmoving. He looked down at what should be his chest. He was translucent, now, and much paler. In fact, he glowed a light blue. “What? What the- this can’t be happening!” He stuck his hand through his own stomach and pulled it out. He didn’t feel a thing. “ _What did you do to my body?!_ ”

          His physical chest expanded as a new life breathed into it. With a soft cackle, Stanford’s physical body pulled itself to its feet. His eyes became a pale yellow and his pupils turned into slits. A smile wider than Stanford had ever possessed spread across his features. “ **Sorry, kid, but you’re _my_ puppet now!** ” Bill cried, picked up the laptop, and smashed it into the ground. His foot cracked down on the laptop, utterly destroying it. He cackled in sadistic glee as the various parts of the machine scattered.

           “Ooooh my gosh! This can’t be happening!” Stanford looked down at his hands and then at Bill, who was controlling his physical body.

          Bill stumbled, laughing, to a nearby mirror. “ **Whoa- whoooa! Ha-ha!** ” He stood in front of the mirror and straightened himself out, hands on his hips. “ **Man! It has been _so long_ since I’ve inhabited a body!** ” Bill slapped himself twice and laughed, this somehow being funnier than staggering about. “ **Whoo! Ha-ha-ha! Pain is hilarious!** ” He looked down at his six-fingered hands and then put one between his eyes. “ **And two eyes! Wow! This thing’s deluxe!** ”

           “I-I don’t understand!” Stanford stumbled over his words. “Why are you doing this?! I thought we had a deal!” That was grasping at straws, but it was worth a try… right?

          Bill turned to him, then. “ **Look, kid,** ” Bill shrugged. “ **You’ve been getting too close to finding some major answers.** ” He rolled his hands together. “ **I’ve got big plans comin’.** ” He pointed at Stanford. **“-and I don’t need you getting in my way! Destroying that laptop was a synch! Now I just need to destroy your journal!** ” He perked up and hopped to the top of the stairs. “ **Race you to the bottom of the stairs!** ” He stood up straight and tipped himself back so that he fell down the entire flight of stairs.

          Stanford grimaced. Oh no. That was definitely a concussion. Stanford dipped into the floor and then tumbled, gasping, to regain his balance. He looked about and zoomed into the kitchen. “Hey!”

          Bill, hair and clothes a bit ruffled from the fall, pulled out a can of soda. “ **Ha! Soda! I’m going to drink it like a person!** ” He tipped his head back and laughed as he poured it over his mouth and eyes. Drowning was a possibility as he seemed to be breathing it in. Since he wasn’t on the floor, though, Stanford could only hope that he wasn’t actually drowning.

          Bill shambled over to the silverware drawer, stuck his hand into it, and closed it on himself repeatedly. “ **So, where do you keep that journal, anyway? Boy! These arms are _durable!_** ”

           “I’ve hidden it!” Stanford denied. Bill held his elbow in one hand and put his other hand on his chin. Forks stuck out of his arm. Oh, that was going to leave a mark. Bill watched him with the amusement an adult would have over a child defending himself after writing ‘3’ backwards. “It’s somewhere you will never find it!”

           “Hey, Ford!” They turned to see Stanley in the doorway. “I borrowed your journal to use as a prop in the show! Talk to you about it later! Okay, bye!” Then, he was gone.

          Bill cackled. “ **Sure! Sounds great, brother! I’ll see you at the show!** ” He tromped out of the kitchen to go out into the yard.

           “No, wait! Stanley! Don’t listen to him!” Stanford yelled and flew into the back yard. “No, stop! Listen to me!” Stanley got into the car with Grauntie Mabel, Hank, and Nick. Stanford flew in front of the car and waved his hands. “Stop!” The car drove right through him.

          Bill strolled up to Stanford’s spirit. “ **Ha! Welcome to the Mindscape, kid!** ” Stanford looked down at him. “ **Without a vessel to possess, you’re basically a ghost!** ”

           “Oh, hey, Ford! There you are!” Fiddleford waved at him from the porch.

          Dan climbed down the steps. “What up, dude?”

           “Fidds! Dan! Help me!” He tried to fly to them, but Fiddleford just walked through him as they approached Dan’s red truck.

          Fiddleford stopped beside Bill. “We’re heading to the theater.”

          Dan prompted, “You need a ride?”

           “ **O-ho! Anything for you, Red!** ” Bill strolled over to Dan’s truck. Dan gave him an odd look. Fiddleford whispered something to him, most likely about being _really_ tired. Dan nodded and jumped into the front seat.

           “Grr- I’m going to stop you, Bill!” Stanford called and flew up to the back seat window. “I will find that journal _and stop you!_ ”

           “ **How can you stop me,** ” Bill stated and turned his head to him. “ **When you don’t exiiiiiiiist?** ” Stanford could hear him laughing, even when the window was rolled up and the truck moved away.

 

          Stanford finally found his way to the theater. Things were getting dark. “Glove Story: A Sock Opera by Stanley Pines”. _“I need to get my body back before he does something crazy with it!”_ Stanford dove into the theater.

           “ **Aw nothing like the theater, eh?** ” Bill prompted to Dan. The three of them were in the front row next to Grauntie Mabel. He looked over at Fiddleford. “ **Hey, Fiddleford! Wanna hear the exact time and date of your death?** ”

          Fiddleford tipped his head. “How would you know that?”

           “Hey, guys!” Stanley ran out to stand in front of them. “You all made it!”

          Grauntie Mabel, sitting next to Fiddleford huffed, “Are you kidding me? I’d never miss something like this!”

          Bill sat up straight. “ **By the by, Stanley, where’d you put my journal again?** ”

          Stanley replied, “I used it as a prop for the wedding scene! I still need a reverend, though.”

           “ **Hey, what if I play the reverend? I mean, _someone’s_ gotta hold that journal, right?** ”

           “Right! Let’s go!”

          Bill jumped out of his seat and ran after Stanley.

           “Oh no! Wait! Stanley!” Stanford cried and flew after them

          Stanley peeked out from behind the curtains to see Gabe sit down, his bee and book puppet in his hands, still.

          Hank blinked the lights. “The show is about to begin! Please turn off all phones!” The lights dimmed completely. A few people–Fiddleford and a few people next to him–clapped.

          The curtains pulled back to show a representation of the Mystery Shack. For the speed at which it was built, and how little a help Stanford turned out to be, it was impressive.

          Nicholas stood on stage with an electric keyboard.

 

          Stanford walked up behind Hank. He now wore a black tux, which seemed to turn into a cape as his dragged down to his feet. “ **So! Hanky! Where’s that book prop I’m using in the wedding scene?** ”

           “It’s up in the wedding cake.” Hank pointed to the wedding cake prop, which was probably big enough to hold Stanley and Stanford, being held up by a rope just out of sight of the audience. “But that doesn’t come down until Act 3. So please be patient! Read your lines in the meantime.” With that, Hank turned back to the play, clipboard clutched in his hand and head phones readjusted on his head.

          Bill narrowed his eyes at him and walked backwards, though his smile did not leave him. “ **Oh, I’ll be patient. I’ll be patient.** ” His smile was gone as he glared at Hank. “ **You monster.** ” With that, he turned and ran off.

          Stanford swooped down in front of Hank. “Have you seen Stanley?” Hank checked his earpiece, shrugged, and turned his attention to the play. Stanley put a hand to his head. “Okay, what did Bill say? I can’t be heard without a vessel?” He looked about. “Where would I find a-?” Stanford stopped and turned his gaze on a pile of puppets nearby. For the first time in a week, Stanford smiled.

 

          Soon, the curtains closed and the crowd clapped. Hank called over the microphone, “Our intermission has begun!” Some people got up and walked around.

 

          Stanley walked into his dressing room. He took a drink of water and washed off his face. “Okay, you can do this, Stanley! Just thirty-six more musical numbers! Should be easy!”

          Puppet Stanford floated up so that he was eye level with Stanley. “Psst! Stanley!”

          He jumped back and ended up falling. “Ah! It’s come to life! The puppet books didn’t warn me about _this!_ ” He threw a fork at the puppet, which stuck in his head.

           “Stanley! It’s me, Stanford! You need to help me!” Stanford disregarded the fork thrown at him and waved his little string arms.

           “Wait, what? Ford?” Stanley stood up, round eyes watching the puppet’s every move. “But… you’re a _sock._ ”

           “Stanley, you’ve got to listen to me. Bill tricked me! He stole my body and he’s after the journal. You have to find the journal before Bill destroys it! It’s my only hope to get back in my body!”

           “But my cue’s coming up any moment, now!” Stanley denied. _He’s worried about his cue. He’s worried about his gosh darn cue?! Did he not SEE Stanford?! Was he not understanding any of this!?_

          The door knocked and Gabe opened the door. “Do you have a minute?” Stanley spun around, grabbed Stanford’s sock puppet, and hid it behind his back.

           “Agk! Ow! Stanley!” Stanford hissed between clenched teeth, struggling as his arm was twisted at an odd angle.

          Gabe walked in and went on, “As far as I can tell, you went full-hog on this play. If you stick the landing, then, well… I guess I’ll have to take back my words. We can talk.”

          The lights flickered. Stanford still struggled in Stanley’s grasp. Gabe left.

           “Did you hear that?! He loves it!” Stanley gasped. He put his fist in his hand, effectively letting go of Stanford. “This play has to be flawless!” He turned to Stanford. “Can’t we wait until after the show?”

           “Stanley! Do you want me to be a sock puppet _forever?!_ ” Stanford snapped.

          Stanley chuckled. “I’m sorry. You look funny when you’re mad.” Stanley picked up the Stanley sock puppet. “Okay, okay, okay. Just take over for me while I go and get the book.”

 

          The play started up again. Stanford, biting his tongue, got the puppets he needed and continued the show.

          Above them, Stanley got onto the catwalk above the stage and found the wedding cake. He spotted the journal sitting in the cake. With a smile, he climbed onto the rail of the catwalk and leaned over to grab the journal. In doing so, he accidently fell into the cake. He yelped as the cake plummeted until it was just in sight of the stage before it stopped and slowly came back up. Stanley sighed in relief and flipped through the journal. “There has to be something about getting Ford’s body back!”

           “ **O-ho! But why would you want to do that?** ”

          Stanley looked up. Bill held onto the rope and pulled it up. A broad grin was on his face and his eyes narrowed in hateful glee. “Bill Ford!” Stanley gasped and then narrowed is eyes. “Bord.”

           “ **Shh!** ” He put a finger to his lips and then pointed back at the audience where Gabe sat. “ **You wouldn’t want to ruin the show!** ”

          Stanley looked over the cake at Gabe.

          The line jerked as Bill let go of it for a second and then grabbed it again. “ **Whoops! It’s slipping~!** ” He took a firm hold on it and pulled it up a bit higher to allow Stanley the ability to hand over the journal. “ **How’s about you hand that book over!** ”

          Stanley shut the book and held it tight to his chest. “No! It’s Ford’s; I’d never give it away!”

           “ **Hmm… You didn’t seem to have a problem taking it for your own play, ditching him when he needed you.** ” Bill pointed out. His smile turned to a grimace. “ **So, come to your senses. Give me the book or your play is ruined.** ” Stanley looked back, shut his eyes and then reached the journal out for Bill to take. Bill laughed. “ **There it is. I mean, who would sacrifice everything they’ve worked for just for their dumb sibling?** ” Bill took the book in one hand while he held the rope in the other.

          Stanley narrowed his eyes and glared at Bill. “Ford would.”

           “ **Huh?** ” He yelled as Stanley tore the book back, effectively pulling Bill into the wedding cake with him. The cake’s rope was lost and it plummeted to the ground.

          Stanford held a puppet Mabel. “…Waddles! The rings!”

          Waddles the Pig waddled over them.

           “Wait, what?” Stanford, still talking in a fake Mabel voice, looked up as a shadow fell over them. “Oh no.” Stanford dropped the puppets and fled. The cake crashed into the play scene, scattering puppets and debris everywhere.

          Stanley and Bill tumbled out of the cake, wrestling with each other over the book. Lasers blazed and fog rippled through the stage. “Get out of my brother’s body you evil triangle!”

          In the audience, Dan and Fiddleford stared at the stage, shocked. Grauntie Mabel looked over at the two boys who helped them and then got up and crept to the backstage.

          Stanley tore the journal out of Bill’s grasp and bonked him over the head with it before running off. Stanford winced. “Careful, Stanley! Don’t kill me!”

          Bill stood up. “ **You can’t defeat me! I’m a being of pure energy with no weakness!** ” He pounced on Stanley and pinned him.

          Stanley smirked back at him. “Oh yeah? Maybe. But you’re in my bro’s body. I know _his_ weaknesses.” Stanford put a hand over his eyes. Oh, he couldn’t watch himself get smacked around. Stanley punched him square in the face and kicked him off. From there, he ran off. “Oh, guess what? Ford hasn’t slept for a couple of days. Me, on the other hand, had lots of sleep last night. And I drank, like, four shots of Mabel Juice without getting sick!”

           “ **Ugh… wh-what’s happening to me?** ” Bill groaned as he stumbled after him. “ **Ah! What is this feeling?** ” His words turned into a wheeze. He became more focused with staying on his own two feet than chasing Stanley. “ **My body is burning! I can't move these stupid noodle legs! Curse you, useless flesh sticks! Body… shutting down… must… scratch… mosquito bites…** ” He took a few steps forward and then collapsed.

          Bill shot out of Stanford’s body, tumbling out through the air. The world turned black and white.

          Stanford flew into his body and then, reunited with his body once more, jumped up. “Ha-ha! We defeated him! …ohhhhh everything hurts.” Stanley fell down again.

          Stanley looked at the crowd and then held up his arms. “And thus the wedding crashing demon possessing the reverend was defeated!”

          The Stanford puppet nearby came to life. “ **THIS ISN’T THE LAST YOU’LL SEE OF ME!** ” Bill cackled. “ **BIG THINGS ARE COMING! YOU CAN’T STOP ME!** ”

           “I’m sorry, guys.” Stanley took out a remote labeled “Big Finish” and pressed it. Behind them, fireworks and explosives went off. The crowd screamed in surprise as the indoor-fireworks burst and crackled and sent colored smoke everywhere. A few crashed into the puppet boxes, causing burning puppets to fly everywhere. Gabe watched the fiery sock rain with absolute horror.

          Finally, the last explosion went off, washing the stage and front rows in smoke. Stanley helped Stanford up. “Don’t worry! This is the part where everyone thinks it’s part of the show and claps!”

          The crowd booed and, grumbling about how they nearly died, stalked out of the theater. Gabe stood up and, throwing a disgusted glare at Stanley, stalked off and started making out with his puppets.

          Stanford watched him go. “Was he… making out with his puppets?”

           “Yep,” Stanley replied.

          Stanford sighed and turned to him. “I’m sorry about the puppets, by the way. If I hadn’t made that deal, your puppets wouldn’t have gotten ruined.”

           “Well, one of them survived,” Stanley offered and pulled out a puppet of himself. “And he has something to say to you.” As a puppet, Stanley said, “I’m sorry, Ford. I spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy. But the dumb guy I should have cared about was you!” Stanley bopped him in the side of the head with the sock’s head. “Mystery twins?” He raised a fist.

           “Mystery twins.” Stanford fist bumped him and then hissed in pain. “Agk! What did he do to my body?”

           “It’s nothin’ a little sleep can’t fix,” Stanley waved his hand and walked off.

           “Seriously, I think I need to go to the hospital,” Stanford wheezed.

           “Why is that?” The two stopped as Grauntie Mabel met them at the edge of the stage, arms crossed. She… did not look happy. “What happened to you two?”

          Fiddleford and Dan joined them. Fiddleford nodded. “That wasn’t part of the play!”

          Dan crossed his arms with a shrug. “Yeah. I nearly got my face blown off.”

          Stanley looked back at his severely injured twin and then back at Mabel. “It’s… a long story?”

           “Dan,” Grauntie Mabel piped up. “Could you please bring these two home? I’ll drop off Hank, Nick, and Fiddleford. You two stay at the kitchen table.”

           “Yes, Mrs. Pines.” Dan waved his hand and left.

           “Yes, Grauntie Mabel.”

          Grauntie Mabel walked behind the stage, Fiddleford trailing behind her.

 

          When they got home, Stanford immediately sat down and held his aching head. Stanley sat down beside him, kicking his legs. “So… what are we going to tell her?”

          Stanford opened one eye. “If we tell her Bill did it, she’ll probably take that journal away permanently or something. I don’t know.” Gompers bleated beneath Stanford. “Not now, Gompers. I’m sorry.”

           “Then we just don’t tell her,” Stanley agreed.

           “Easy for you to say,” Stanford grumbled. “I think I’m dying or something.”

          Stanley shrugged. “’Guess she’ll just patch you up or somethin’.”

          The door opened. Grauntie Mabel walked into the kitchen wielding a first aid kit. “Sit still, Stanford. I’m going to look you over, okay?” Stanford sat up straight. “Come over here and help me with this, Stanley. Does it hurt if I- okay, it does.”

          For the next hour, Grauntie Mabel checked him over and, with Stanley’s help, bandaged him up. She told them stories about when she was younger and how much trouble she got in. One time she got in a fight and ended up with a broken arm, black eye, and a concussion. It took a while to heal, and it was not only painful but annoying, but she healed. Sometimes, she told stories of how her brother would limp back home after being picked over by bullies. She’d go out and flatten them, often gaining injuries in the process.

          Eventually, Stanford was all bandaged up and his fingers were set and a patch of paper towel soaked in very cold water was set on his eye and tied behind his head like an eyepatch. “Now, don’t move about too much and don’t use this hand or you’ll mess it up.” She got up and started taking out supplies from the cabinets and fridge. “I’m making something to drink. You’re going to have to stay up a while longer. Stanford? When’s your birthday?”

           “August thirty first,” Stanford answered.

           “Good. Pay attention. I’ll be asking you easy questions, okay?” She put a pot of water onto boil. “Now, can either of you tell me what happened?”

          Stanley and Stanford stayed silent.

          Grauntie Mabel didn’t look back at them. “If someone hurt you, you’d tell me, right?”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah.”

           “Did someone attack you?”

           “…”

          Grauntie Mabel prepared something next to the stove. “I understand. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She smiled. “You two are so funny.” She sighed and dropped something in the boiling water. “What’s your last name, Ford?”

           “Pines,” Stanford answered.

          Eventually, she set down three mugs of hot cocoa, all three decorated handsomely with half-melted marshmallows. “Chocolate helps with anything,” Grauntie Mabel informed them, her smile returning. “But after this, you’re going straight to bed, Stanford. Stanley: You’re going to come with me back to the theater to clean up that mess. Dan agreed to stay, so if you need any help, he’ll be here. Oh, and remember: get some sleep. Don’t stay up like this again. What did I just give you, Ford?”

          Ford looked down at the cup. “Hot cocoa.”

           “Good.” She took a sip of the hot, glittery drink.

 

          Dan helped Stanford up the stairs and then leaned on the wall outside of the bedroom door once they got to the attic. Stanford was asleep almost before he lay down. At the theater, Stanley swept up the destruction. Hank, Nick, and Fiddleford came by on occasion to help. Grauntie Mabel spoke with the people who owned the stage. For the most part, it was Stanley cleaning it up.

 

B JTBU EFBBSVQ TQGZZQHA NG ERU I TBV-ZBG HCEQFKYWFQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy! Look who got his soul pulled out of his body! I'm sure that Stanford would soak up compliments (especially about his intellect and cleverness) more than Dipper. I mean, all the _vigenère_ way down to the point of naivety. That's how it was in the show, after all! Oh, and writing about his hand was fun. In the actual show, there's a single frame during the rooftop visit scene _biford_ where Bill's hand is missing. As a joke, I claimed that his hand wasn't real and was just a projection. I guess it's a thing with me now, though.
> 
> "Although I knew that the image of him I see only exists within my mind, I insisted that when my hand was engulfed in the blue flames I felt a physical chill. It fascinated me." ~Journal Three, An Encounter


	5. Society of the Blind Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the laptop ruined, Stanley and Stanford lost their biggest lead in finding the author. Will Stanford finally give up this hopeless mission, or will his resolve strengthen? Will the twins listen to what their great aunt has told them, or will they continue pushing forward? After all, in this town you don't know who you can trust. Will the boys heed the journal's warning over Gravity Falls, or will their blind trust reveal the lies hidden right before their eyes?

 

          Night fell over the Valley. Lamp lights flickered. Some fizzled out. Within Greasy’s Diner, “Lazy” Susan swept the last of the kitchen. “Ta dum, locking up,” she hummed as she worked. She turned to see two possums on the dishes in the sink. She poked them with the end of her broom. “Shoo, possums, shoo!” Once they scrambled off the counter, she walked over to one of the tables and slapped her broom in it. “Git, Chiu, git!” “Old Woman” Chiu scrambled out from under the table and fled. Susan put away her broom and, humming, locked the diner door behind her. “Good night, diner,” she said as she walked. “Good night, trees. Good night, tiny men stealing my pie.” She gasped and turned around. She lifted the eyelid of her permanently shut eye. Four gnomes stacked on top of each other wobbled near the window. The top most one grabbed at the pie with his tiny hands. “Wait, _WHAT?”_

          Jeff stood below them. “Lift with your knees. No, your _knees._ If I go one more hour without eating, I’m gunna resort to cannibalism.” He looked back, as if just now noticing Susan. He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

           “Lazy” Susan screamed and walked backwards. “Little magic men! What does it mean? What do I do?!” She stumbled into a payphone. Immediately she spun around and took off the phone. With shaky fingers, she typed in “911”. “Yes, hi. I’d like to report something. I’m at Greasy’s Diner. You won’t believe what I’ve witnessed.” As she talked, two figures in maroon cloaked slipped out of the trees. Like ghosts, their shadowed feet didn’t make a noise against the ground and the hem of their cloaks hardly disturbed the ground they walked on. A symbol of a red eye crossed out stood out in blazing red on their hoods. “Lazy” Susan, too terrified to notice the figures behind her, stammered, “It’s unbelievable! It’s indescribable! It’s- _AH!_ ” She dropped the phone and screamed as the figure on the right dropped a bag over her head. The figures dragged her back into the woods.

          As the cloaked figures disappeared into the trees, they passed up a third hooded figure bearing the same plain robes as the first two. Once they passed, he held out a shadowed hand. “It is unseen,” he announced, his voice quiet but firm. He followed the screaming woman and her two abductors. The same symbol that was on their hoods was spray painted onto the brick wall the third figure had been standing before.

          The gnomes, now holding the pie, witnessed the scene with blank expressions. Jeff shrugged. “Well! Back to pie!” They scampered off in the opposite direction of the cloaked figures. A slice of pie fell off. “I was _this_ close to eating you, Steve.”

 

          The next day, Stanford and Stanley stayed in their room. Stanford tacked an image of a person’s silhouette with a question mark on the face onto a board. “WHO IS THE AUTHOR?” was painted on carboard nailed to the top of the board. Newspaper clippings, pictures, and random notes with the letter “C” highlighted decorated most of the board. Blue strings tied around the tacks, connecting many pieces of evidence they’d collected over the summer.

          Stanford stood back to look over his board. He gnawed on a red ink pen as he did so. “Hmmm… who is the author? These pieces- they don’t make any sense. Who are you…? Agk! Pah!” Stanford spat as the ink pen broke in his teeth and sent ink spilling into his mouth and down his chin. He wiped off his face and chucked the pen into a box of broken pens labeled “THINKING PENS”.

           “HEY!” Stanley yelled as he ran into the room. A green bottle with a cork in it was clutched in his hands. “Guess what! Guess what!”

          Stanford looked back at him. “What?”

          Stanley launched himself onto Stanford’s bed and scrambled to sit up. “Look! Look!” He held out the bottle. “It’s from Mermanda!”

           “Mermanda?” Stanford echoed. “The mermaid without an ability to sing?”

          Stanley scoffed, “She can sing. She just needed practice. Anyhoo, I got another message from her. What if she says we can be together? Since, you know, we’ll be living on the coast an’ all. And, of course, sailing around the world on the ocean when we’re older.”

           “Uh, Stanley? I don’t think you should get your hopes up,” Stanford pointed out. “She’s still a mermaid. You two live in different worlds.”

           “Psssh. That never stopped people in the movies.” Stanley took the cork out of the green bottle and then pulled out the message labeled “STANLEY”. “Okay, okay. ‘Dear Stanley. It’s with a heavy heart that I must inform you…’” Stanley’s smile faded and eyebrows contracted. “‘I’m going to become a princess and am getting married’?!”

           “There it is,” Stanford sighed.

           “‘In order to become princess and keep our nations allied, I have to marry the Atlantic Prince’?” He pulled out a picture of her and a merman. He had tawny skin and a greenish tail. Unlike Mermanda, who had a small, shy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, he grinned to show off flashy teeth and the light caught his aquamarine eyes perfectly. “Ugh! He’s even good looking? What?” He flopped back down. “Ugh! This can’t be happening!”

           “If it makes you feel better, you’ll get over her,” Stanford commented. “Besides, you know it wouldn’t have worked out.”

          Stanley stuck out his tongue and sat up. “Man, you don’t know. She was my first girlfriend- and away from home! She could be with us on adventures or we could visit her on our adventures. We’d be having so much and- ugh. Stupid politics.” He slapped the paper on the bed and crossed his arms over his legs. “Gosh, romance is just so stupid.”

           “If it’s any consolation, my summer mission isn’t going that well.” Stanford picked up the journal and paced back and forth. “I’m still trying to find the author of this journal, but with this laptop smashed, I’ve lost any lead in finding him.” Stanford gestured to the smashed laptop by their bedside desk.

          Stanley looked at the laptop and then his bottle. “Hey, wait a minute! Ford! Look!” He held out the bottle for Stanford to take.

           “Uh… okay.” Stanford took the bottle and looked through it. The glass distorted the world he saw and magnified the area directly in front of it. In the smashed wreckage that was the laptop, a little gold plate was screw into it. “CHIU LABS” was engraved in the plate. Stanford lowered the bottle. “‘CHIU LABS’? As in ‘Old Woman’ Chiu?!”

          Stanley’s eyes went round. “Ford! You don’t think–?”

           “It doesn’t make any sense!” Stanford exclaimed and ran to the board. He took Candy Chiu’s picture out from the “SUSPICIOUS TOWNSFOLK” area. “UNLIKELY” was written in marker on the picture. “Unless…” He tacked it onto the silhouette. Then, he went to work. Muttering under his breath, Stanford buzzed about the pictures, newspaper clippings, and everything else on the board. He untied and retied the blue strings until it made a made a spider web of blue string with the focal point being “Old Woman” Chiu. Stanford took a step back. “Does that mean that… _Chiu wrote the journal!?_ ”

 

          Downstairs, Fiddleford fixed a crooked picture frame in the gift shop. Dan refolded clothes that customers had taken but didn’t put back neatly. Dan looked down at Fiddleford. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you: do you always keep papers lying around?”

           “Huh?” Fiddleford looked back at him. For the slightest moment, panic flitted through his bright blue eyes before he forced himself to relax.

           “You left your notebook or whatever on the counter. I didn’t look through it.” Dan took the notebook from beside the clothes and held it out.

          Fiddleford took it. “Thanks! Ah’m sorry, Ah guess Ah just forgot Ah left it there.” He put the small notebook with a horse on its cover in his pocket. It didn’t fit all the way.

          Stanford and Stanley ran into the gift shop with the expressions of two people being chased by a tiger. “WE HAVE TO MOVE!” Stanford cried and grabbed Fiddleford by the wrist. Stanley took Dan and they two ran outside.

           “What the-?!” Dan gasped.

          Stanley didn’t look back. “No time to explain! We need to go to the dump!”

          Grauntie Mabel turned around and raised her hand. “Hey! What about work? You’re supposed to be- and they’re gone.” Grauntie Mabel lowered her hand. “Those kids.”

 

          They were at the dump. “Okay, so be gentle,” Stanford stated. “We don’t want to make _any_ wrong moves.”

           “She’s a real intelligent lady,” Fiddleford agreed. “And nice. I don’t see why you’d be afraid of her.”

          Stanley scoffed, “She acts like a kook and no one knows what she even is.”

           “She’s a human bein’, Stanley,” Fiddleford cut in dryly.

           “Why? Do you know her?”

           “Mrs. Chiu!” Stanford called. “We need to talk to you!”

          Nate and Lee cackled as the spray-painted the side of a makeshift house. The high-fived each other once they’d finished writing “OLD WOMAN CHEW” on it.

          Nate took a step back to admire their work. “That’s good.”

          Lee snickered, “It took us an hour to think of it, but it was worth it!”

           ‘Old Woman’ Chiu hobbled out of a blanket that stood in for a door. “Hey! HEY! Git!” The two teens ran away, laughing, and dropped their spray-paint cans. “Get out of here you… oh, they got me good.” She shook her head and, once she noticed the kids, brightened immensely. “Visitors! Come, come!” She hobbled back into her home. They followed her inside. “Pull up some rusty metal! You’re in time for my hourly turf war with the woman that lives in my mirror!” She glared at her reflection in the bathtub. “Quit starin’ at me when I bathe!”

          Stanford stopped in the middle of the room. “You can drop the act, Chiu.” She turned around. “I know you’re the author. You studied the mysteries of this town and wrote this book.” He pulled out the journal.

          Dan went on, “You’re the genius Ford’s been looking for all summer.” The broken laptop was now in his hands.

           “Uh, genius?” Mrs. Chiu stared at them and then shook her head and turned around. “I’m no genius. I’ve never done nothin’ worthwhile in my life.” She looked a framed newspaper article on the wall. “LOCAL KOOK CONTINUES DOWNWARD SLIDE” was the article’s name. Underneath of a picture of “Old Woman” Chiu with a whole racoon in her mouth and holding a knife and fork was the caption “SEEN EATING RACOON”. Tate held out a hand at the camera as if to turn it off. “SON OFFERS NO COMMENT”. “Everyone knows I’m not good to nobody. I can’t remember what I used to be, but I must have been a failure to end up like this.” She sighed and turned back to the group of kids.

          Stanley shook his head. “But you have to be! The laptop has your name on it!”

           “What about this book? Are you sure you didn’t write it?” Stanford offered and opened the journal for “Old Woman” Chiu to see. He gently flipped through each page. “Here, look closely.”

           “Old Woman” Chiu shook her head. “I told you, I don’t remember. Everything before 1982 was just a blur. Just a hazy…” Her eyes fell on a page with a large eye crossed out in red. On the left page was the image of a hooded figure with the crossed out eye symbol on the hood. “SOCIETY OF THE BLIND EYE” read above the eye. “WHAT DOES IT MEAN??” “CAN’T BE UNSEEN!” were annotations written around the eye. Candy’s eyes went wide. She shrieked and scrambled back so quickly that she fell onto her back. Even then she scrambled to get away as if the book had turned into a monster ready to eat her. “THE BLIND EYE! Robes, the men, my mind! They did something!” Fiddleford put a hand to his mouth and took a step back.

          Stanford shut the journal. “Who did?”

           “I…” “Old Woman” Chiu put her hands to her head and rubbed her temples. “Oh, I… I don’t recall.”

          Stanley frowned. “Ah, man. No wonder you’re mind’s all messed up. You’ve been through somethin’ intense.”

          Stanford looked at Stanley and their friends. “What if Chiu learned something she wasn’t supposed to know, and someone, or something, messed with her mind? We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

          Dan held his hands in front of him. “Think: what is the earliest thing you can remember?”

           “Uh…” “Old Woman” Chiu put a hand to her head and glanced at another newspaper beside the framed one. “This, I think.” She took the newspaper off the wall and held it out. “DISORIENTED WOMAN FOUND AT MUSEUM”. “Old Woman” Chiu sat in front of the museum, a hand to her head and a hazy look on her face.

           “The history museum!” Dan exclaimed.

          Stanford gave them a firm nod. “That’s where we’re going.”

          Fiddleford looked at the picture and piped up, “Look, whatever messed with her must have been somethin’ fierce. Maybe we should make a plan or somethin’.”

           “We’ll plan on the way, Stanford denied. “This is too important to wait.”

 

          Everyone piled into Dan’s truck. “Old Woman” Chiu sat in the passenger seat. She looked out the window, completely silent. Stanford sat in the middle of the backseat and studied the “Society of the Blind Eye” page.

           “It’s in code,” Stanley pointed out. “Like, most of the page.”

           “What if it’s a warnin’?” Fiddleford prompted. “It’s in code because the auth- it was too terrible for her to look at every day.”

          Stanford didn’t look at him. “I know you’re trying to be cautious, Fidds, but this is too important.”

 

          They walked into the museum on light feet. Stanford looked about. “Keep your eye out for _anything_ suspicious.”

          Dan watched as Stanley walked by a poster of Gabe and his puppet show. “Man, is something wrong? You just walked by a poster of a puppet show and didn’t make fun of it.”

          Stanley sighed. “Ah, Dan. Everything I look at reminds me of that stupid romance. That heart in a jar,” he gestured to a formaldehyde heart in a jar with an arrow through it, “-that romantic diorama,” he pointed to a statue of a man carrying a very angry woman over his shoulder. “-even that flier for singing lessons.” He stared at a flier with a singing girl on it offering lessons.

          Stanford stood by “Old Woman” Chiu. “So, your last memory was here. Is anything coming back? Anything at all?”

          Dan gasped and pointed down another hall. “Look!” A hooded figure paused at the end of the hall before vanishing from sight.

           “Hey, who’s there?” Stanford called after him. The chase began. Yet, almost as quickly as it came, it went. The group stopped in a room wall-to-wall covered in eyes. Eyes in jars, pictures of eyes, eye replicas, eye-shaped figurines- everything. They looked about the creepy place. There was no hooded figure.

           “He’s vanished!” “Old Woman” Chiu exclaimed.

           “It doesn’t make sense. Where did he go?” Stanford huffed and looked about.

          Fiddleford pointed down the opposite hall, as there had been a fork in the hallway. “Maybe he went in the other direction? There’s plenty of places to go that way.”

          Stanford looked at him. “I could have sworn he went this way but… there isn’t anything here. Look at all these eyes, though! We must be close, at the very least.”

          Stanley walked to Fiddleford’s side. “Yeah! Maybe if we split up we can find him!”

          Stanford countered in an instant, “We’re not splitting up!”

           “If we do that,” Fiddleford suggested, “We’ll find them faster! It was only one guy. But it’s too dangerous, anyway.”

           “Fidds?” Stanford turned so that he faced his friend completely. “You’re acting strange. Not in the usual way.”

           “This monster or these people- they don’t sound good,” Fiddleford explained. “What if we find them and they take our memory or somethin’? Then we’d never even think to find the auth- what happened with Mrs. Chiu.”

          Stanley huffed and held up a notebook. “I’ve never seen you with this thing around.”

          Fiddleford spun around. “My notebook! What are you- that’s mine!” He attempted to grab it, but Stanley held it out of his reach.

          Stanley put a hand on Fiddleford’s chest and kept the notebook out of reach. “Dude! Calm down! What is this thing? Is it yours? I mean yours has a hog… on it…” He looked at the notebook. The rearing horse had something red on its face. Stanley’s eyebrows contracted. Fiddleford kicked Stanley in the shins. Stanley yelped in pain and let go of Fiddleford. Instead of letting go of the notebook, he chucked it at Stanford.

           “Guys, seriously!” Fiddleford turned around but was caught as Stanley wrapped his arms around him, effectively pinning his arms to his side.

          Dan attempted to step forward. “Guys, guys! Stop fighting. That’s Fidds’.”

          Stanford looked at the cover and then held it out. “But look at this.” The rearing horse’s eyes were crossed out by a red marker.

           “Seriously guys,” Fiddleford whined. “Let me go!”

          Stanford flipped open the notebook. His eyes grew round in shock. The Blind Eye symbol was written in bright red marker on the front page. “ _What?_ ”

           “L-look, it’s not what it seems-!” Fiddleford stammered.

           “You knew about this!?” Stanford held out the page with the symbol for Fiddleford to see. “Old Woman” Chiu and Dan walked around so that they could see it, too. “You knew about this _and you didn’t tell us?_ ”

          Fiddleford shook his head wildly. He’d stopped struggling, but now he was shaking like a leaf in a late autumn storm. “Please! It’s not- Really, you can’t!”

           “Can’t what?” Stanford flipped through the pages. Sketches and scribbled notes filled the pages completely. Some sketches were monsters and other passages were his experiences. But many pages, covered top to bottom, were _names-_ names, experiences, and dates.

           “P-please, Stanford, Ah don’t want ya to- to- it’s not what it looks like, really!” Fiddleford pleaded. Stanley’s grip tightened as Fiddleford attempted to free himself again.

          _Tate McGucket, human fight, 11/21/2010_

          _Mabel Pines, human fight, 11/21/2010_

           “Grauntie Mabel?” Stanford breathed.

          A few pages of names, numbers, and notes later, they landed on “2012”.

          _Tate McGucket, Gobblewonker/boat, 06/05/2012_

          _Janice Valentino, McSkirmish attack, 06/21/2012_

          _Daniel Corduroy, Gremloblin, 07/06/2012_

          _Stanley F. Pines, Gremloblin, 07/06/2012_

          _Fiddleford H. McGucket, Shapeshifter, 07/23/2012_

          _Stanford F. Pines, Memory Gun, 07/25/2012_

           “What?” Stanford breathed and looked up at Fiddleford. Fiddleford shut his eyes and looked down. What was he supposed to feel about this? Fiddleford was his best friend. They’d been friends since they’d come to Gravity Falls. Evidently, his mind chose to feel anger. He stalked up to Fiddleford and lifted his head. He felt _cold._ Fiddleford opened his water eyes and flinched as he looked into Stanford’s narrowed ones.

           “L-Look-” Fiddleford sputtered.

           “What is this?!” Stanford snapped. “Grauntie Mabel, Dan, Stanley, _me?_ How long have you been going behind our backs?”

          Fiddleford bit his lip. “Ah-Ah joined to order in 2010. They wouldn’t let me in at first ’cause Ah was small, but they eventually did. Ah don’t normally attend the meetin’s because outside people’d recognize me.”

           “What is this about a memory gun?” Stanford showed him the page holding their names on it.

          Stanley’s eyes went wide as he saw his own name on it. “Gremloblin? What? But I remember seeing the ugly thing. I remember being caught by it, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as he tried, in futility, to remember what happened when the creature looked into his eyes.

           “Y-you found it,” Fiddleford squeaked. “Ah’d been hiding it in my bedroom. But Ah had ta use it. Ya found it in my bag. You got real angry about it, but Ah never told you what it was about really. Ya just got mad because Ah lied to ya about it, told ya it was a dumb flashlight Ah’d been workin’ on. Ya don’t remember it. Ah reckon ya never will, either.”

           “Ugh.” Stanford let go and took a few steps back. “I should have realized it. The whole sneaking around, the instance that we don’t come here- is your dad really that aggressive about making you stay home or were you lying about that, too?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “N-no. No, he really is. Ah just sneak out when he’s not lookin’.”

          Stanford flipped through the journal. “Notes about our adventures, too. You’ve been hiding this from us this whole time? Why are you here, Fiddleford?” He shut the notebook. “Is this friendship just a lie because we’re outsiders? You don’t want us meddling with your stupid cult so you stay with us to make sure we don’t?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “No! No Ah swear Ah’m not! Ah didn’t! Ah really like you guys. Ah wanted ta help. That’s all Ah wanted. Ah wasn’t going with you to keep the Society a secret.”

           “Then why didn’t you tell us?” Stanford prompted.

           “Ah couldn’t. It’s a secret society, Stanford. No one can know about it,” Fiddleford stated. “That’s why Ah couldn’t _tell_ you.”

          Stanford huffed. “Well, fine. If you want to be part of some stupid cult and mess with our memories without telling us, then I guess you can keep them.” He dropped the pad of paper.

           “Wh-what?” Fiddleford breathed.

          Stanford turned around. “There has to be some switch around here or something to open a hidden door.”

           “What do you mean?” Fiddleford asked.

           “As soon as we find this cult and find a way to get Mrs. Chiu’s memories back you can stay here.” He glared at Fiddleford. “Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re not my friend. You’re not welcome.”

          Fat tears welled up in Fiddleford’s eyes. “N-no! Don’t- Lee! Tell him he’s bein’ crazy!”

          Stanley glared at him and then looked at the wall of eyes opposite of him.

          Fiddleford looked up at Dan. “Ya- ya wouldn’t really kick me out?”

          Dan sighed, “I’m sorry, b- Fiddleford. This is on you.”

          He looked at “Old Woman” Chiu. The old woman gained a sad, disapproving frown before hobbling off to inspect the rest of the room. Fiddleford shut his eyes and hung his head.

          Stanford ignored the tiny hiccups and sniffling that came from his former best friend as they searched.

           “Old Woman” Chiu stopped and looked around. She gained a nervous look about her. “I feel like all these eyeballs are a-watchin’ me…”

          Stanford snapped his attention to her. “Wait…” He looked about them. Indeed, all of the eyes were turned so that they pointed to the place “Old Woman” Chiu currently stood. “They are! Move aside!” The old woman stepped aside to allow Stanford to take her place. On the wall in the center of the eyes was a jagged stone piece that looked like a pressure plate. The Society of the Blind Eye’s symbol was engraved on it. Stanford pressed down on it. The wall to their left shuttered. A section of wall slid to the side to reveal a staircase. “A secret passageway.”

           “We have to be stealthy,” “Old Woman” Chiu stated. “We’ll have to be quiet.”

          Stanford nodded and led the way downstairs. Fiddleford opened his eyes. As Stanley got distracted by the new passage, Fiddleford elbowed him in the side, slipped out of his grasp, took his notebook, and raced as fast as he could down the hallway. “Hey!” Stanley called after him.

           “Don’t bother,” Stanford huffed. “That just means we’ll have to be faster. The guy in the robes paired with Fiddleford means they’ll be on us in seconds! We can’t waste our time!”

           “Got it!” Stanley followed them down the staircase as quickly and quietly as he could. He grimaced in pain as he stretched the muscles in his legs and side while moving.

          Stanford paused and looked back at him. “Are you alright?”

           “He got me in the rib. Nothin’ major. I’m fine.” Stanley waved his hand and kept walking.

          Chanting echoed down the hall.

          The group stopped and peeled back red curtains just a hair. They had to cluster together to really see into the vast room. Six people in cloaks with the Blind Eye symbols on the hoods stood around a treasure chest on a pedestal. A chair with metal cuffs on it was a few feet away. “ _Novus ordo seclorum,_ ” they chanted. They touched the treasure chest with one hand each and then backed off.

          Once their voices died, a seventh person arrived. He ghosted to the treasure chest. “Who is the subject of our meeting?”

          Two robed cultists led “Lazy” Susan inside. She still had the bag over her head and both arms were firmly in their grasp. The cultists announced, “This woman!” The left cultist took off the bag on her head.

          The kids gasped. Stanley whispered, “‘Lazy’ Susan?”

          The cultists set her in the chair and tied her hands on the arms of the chair. The lead cultist stated, “What have you seen?”

           “Speak!” the eight other cultists demanded.

           “Lazy” Susan looked about the room. “Uh-uh! Well, uh, I was leaving the diner, and I saw these little bearded doodads, and I was, like, ‘Bwaaa?’”

          The leader turned to the chest and opened it. “There, there.” He pulled out what looked like a gun with a lightbulb for a barrel, a circle device on one side with a long tube-holding device on another, a red glass blast shield, and a small panel on the end. “You won’t be like ‘Bwaaah?’ for much longer.”

          The other members kept their heads low and pulled their hoods tighter over themselves.

           “Lazy” Susan eyed the contraption. “What is that gizmo? It looks like a hair dryer.” As she spoke, the man with the gun moved the circle switch multiple times. The words “LITTLE MEN” spelled out in bright green letters. “Are you guys barbers?” He pointed to the gun at her. The lightbulb glowed and sparkled in brilliant blue light. “Lazy” Susan screamed as a ray of blue light flashed and blasted her in the face. Once the light died, it revealed both of her eyes open and pupils dilated. Then, one eye closed, her pupils returned to their original size, and she relaxed.

          The cult leader turned around and looked at the gun. “Lazy Susan, what do you know of little bearded men?”

           “Lazy” Susan stated, “My mind is cleared, thanks to the Society of the Blind Eye.”

          The cultists raised their arms. “It is unseen!”

          Stanford’s eyes went wide. “They just wiped her memory.”

           “Old Woman” Chiu pulled back the curtain a bit more to see what was going on in more clarity.

          Stanford shook his head, still in disbelief. “Are you seeing this? They just wiped ‘Lazy’ Susan’s memory!”

          The cultists untied her. The lead cultist turned to her. “‘Lazy’ Susan, how do you feel?”

           “Lazy” Susan was helped down and lead away. “I feel great! I can’t even remember what was wrong or what I’m doing here, or if I’m a man or a woman!”

           “Your memories will be safe with us, buried in the Hall of the Forgotten.” He opened the tube holder on the side of the memory gun and removed a little tube with a roll of what looked like paper on the side. He took out a marker and wrote “‘Lazy’ Susan Wentworth” on the paper in red.

           “Into the Hall of the Forgotten! Into the Hall of the Forgotten!” The rest of the cultists chanted.

          The leader put the tube inside of a chute, like the ones in banks, and shut the lid. The memory was vacuumed out. “Good chanting, boys. Have you been practicing?” the cult leader prompted as they continued to chant.

          The kids gasped as the tunnel with the memory tube ran right over them. They shut the curtain in an instant.

          The leader announced, “Meeting adjourned!”

          The cultists relaxed and dispersed. “Unsee you later!” “Unsee you later!” “Unsee you later!” the greeted as they walked past each other.

          Once the area was clear, the group walked out into the open. “A secret society of evil mind erasers.” Stanford picked up the gun, inspected it, and put it back in its holder. “I’ll bet they erased your mind a long time ago. If we can find where your memories have been hidden, it could be the key to unlocking all the mysteries of Gravity Falls!” He turned to Stanley and Dan. “Stanley! Dan! Stay here and make sure those cultists don’t come back.” He turned to “Old Woman” Chiu. “Mrs. Chiu, Fidd- Ahem. Mrs. Chiu: you and I are going to find the Hall of the Forgotten.” He looked at a tube nearby. Stanford took out a cloth and shoved it into the pipe. It was vacuumed down the tube. “Follow that cloth!”

           “Old Woman” Chiu raced down the corridor with Stanford. Tubes ran through the ceiling above them. A few more appeared and some crossed. They stayed following the one with the cloth.

           “Halt! Is someone there?” The voice of one of the cultists barked out from the hallway.

           “Old Woman” Chiu gasped. “Oh! Oh no! What are we gunna do?”

           “Over here!” Stanford hissed and ducked under a wagon in the Settler section. “Old Woman” Chiu poised as a settler woman.

          Two robed figures ran down the hall. They paused by the settler exhibit. The first one huffed, “Man, these are really poorly made.” He tried to “fix” “Old Woman” Chiu’s eyes, as they had drifted apart, but failed twice. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.”

           “Probably just that janitor kissing that wax settler woman again,” the second commented.

          The two left. “Whoof! Remind me to erase _that_ from my memory!”

          The cloth zipped past them in the tube on the ceiling. Stanford crawled out from under the wagon. “Whew! There!” They began their chase again. Eventually, the tube led through a large pair of doors. When they opened it, they watched the cloth fall onto the head of a large statue. The robed man’s arms were spread wide and his head was down. The ceiling above was riddled by the ends of tubes, all facing down. The most impressive of all was the sheer number of memory-tubes scattered over the floor, in monstrous piles, and on any type of raised surface like a table or a desk. Pillars rose up around the room. At the very end, behind the statue flanked by burning sconces and on the stone around it, were a few rows of neatly placed memory tubes.

           “Old Woman” Chiu stuttered a few swears in her native language.

 

          In the main chamber, Stanley and Dan sat on the steps next to each other. Stanley lay down and looked up at the ceiling. “I just don’t get it, Dan! We’re cool people. I’m awesome, Ford’s awesome. No one really likes us in New Jersey. I thought we were making friends here, but Fiddleford, who was supposed to be our best friend, turned out to be a bust. I don’t even know who we can trust anymore. Besides you. You’re not even our age! You’re cool because you’re older and awesome. What gives?”

           “You really shouldn’t get hung up over it,” Dan denied. “Friends are cool and all, but you don’t need to have a whole bunch. Fiddleford’s one a million, man. There aren’t even a million people here.”

           “Well, yeah.” Stanley sat up. “But I’m talkin’ about no one talks to us at school. Maybe Ford because he’s a genius and a real pushover so people ask him for help on homework. _Ugh.”_

           “So, I’m guessing no one at your place is like anyone here?” Dan prompted.

          Stanley shook his head. “Nope. They’re a load of jerks.”

           “If they’re jerks, why are you sad that they don’t like you? Jerks don’t like good guys. Besides, you can hang out with us anytime.” Dan smiled.

          Stanley didn’t smile back. “This whole thing’s a mess. I wish we didn’t find that stupid laptop. If we didn’t find it, we wouldn’t even be here. Ford wouldn’t have gone half-crazy from not sleeping and wouldn’t have gotten possessed by that triangle jerk. We probably wouldn’t know Fiddleford was a cultist and he’d still be our friend.”

           “So you’d rather _not_ know?” Dan prompted.

           “Yeah. Wish I could just forget about this whole thing.” Stanley muttered. “Then everything can go back to what it was. Wait a minute…” His eyes turned to the seat with the treasure chest next to it. “Forget!” He jumped up and hopped into the seat. He grabbed the memory gun and looked it over. “I can forget about this whole mess, right?”

          Dan ran to his side. “Oh, no! No, no! You don’t know what that thing does! It could make you forget how to read or how to breath or anything!”

          Stanley looked over the gun and then up at Dan. “Or some stupid ex-crush and ex-friend?” Dan didn’t respond.

 

           “Whoa,” Stanford breathed as he and “Old Woman” Chiu walked further into the room. “Look at all of these tubes… people must have been getting their memories erased all over the place.” He looked down and plucked a tube off a desk. “‘Janice?’ Look at this!”

          They found what looked like a computer with something to hold a tube in rather than a keyboard near one end of the room. He set the tube inside and pressed a button. The machine hissed as it clamped down on the memory tube.

          _“Tell us, Janice, what you have seen,”_ The cultist leader demanded.

          Janice, strapped down to the chair with ropes around her chest and arms, looked up at him. _“So, I was attacked by this magic Kung Fu guy that was, like, throwing balls of fire at me. I kicked his butt, though.”_ She ended her explanation with a smug smirk.

          _“Janice, speak honestly.”_

          _“I was saved by a twelve-year-old,”_ Janice grumbled.

          The tape stopped. Stanford shook his head. “I still don’t get it. Why are they erasing peoples’ memories?”

           “Looky!” “Old Woman” Chiu stood next to the statue. She pointed at a tube on the end of the top shelf labeled “CHIU MEMORIES”. “It’s my name!”

           “You’re memories!” Stanford gasped. “We did it!”

           “Hehe! Grabby, grabby!” “Old Woman” Chiu climbed onto the statue, grabbed the tube, pulled it off. The oval above the statue peeled back to reveal an eye that had been scratched out. It blazed in red light. The room flashed red as an alarm blared.

 

          In the main room, Dan looked over the gun he’d taken from Stanley. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

           “All of my ideas are good ideas!”

          Alarms made a high-pitched screech through the room they were in. Red lights blazed through the room. They looked about. “Oh no!” Dan hissed.

 

           “Ah!” “Old Woman” Chiu dropped the memory tube. “Those alarms in my head are goin’ off again!” Stanford caught it.

           “Halt! Who’s there?” A society member cried from outside the door.

           “Oh no!” Stanford gasped and ran off. “Old Woman” Chiu hid behind the statue.

           “Get back here!” The society member yelled as he and a few others chased the boy.

           “Old Woman” Chiu peeked her head out as soon as the coast was clear. “Oh, you’ve really mucked it up, now, Candy. This is all your fault.”

 

          Stanford, clutching the memory tube, hid behind a sarcophagus. The society members raced past. He took a few deep breaths. “They’re gone.” No sooner had he said that then a pair of hands move out of the dark and clamped over his eyes. Stanford screamed as he was torn back and swept off his feet.

 

          Stanford, Stanley, and Dan were tied a pillar low to the ground so they were forced to sit. Dan had to be tied down with multiple ropes lest he break through the weaker ones Stanford and Stanley couldn’t. Crates of memory tubes were pushed up against the sides and corners of the room. The struggling kids were surrounded by robed cultists.

          The lead cultist took the memory tube Stanford had been holding and took a few steps back. “You shouldn’t have come here,” the lead cultist stated. “We do not give up our secrets lightly.”

          Dan burst out, “Who are you freaks?”

          Stanford glared at them. “Why are you doing this?”

           “What’s with the whole kidnapping thing?” Stanley demanded.

           “Well, I suppose we are going to erase your minds anyway.” The cultist leader nodded to the people around him. One by one, cultists took off their hoods.

          Stanley gasped, “Thompson Determined?”

           “Gideon Gleeful?” Stanford asked.

           “That farmer guy?” Dan guessed.

          One small member didn’t take off his hood until the man next to him, Gideon, gave him a cold stare. Fiddleford took off his own hood. He refused to look at them. He flinched at Stanford’s cold remark. “And Fiddleford. Here again.”

          The cultist leader, so far the only one not wearing his hood, announced, “And you’ve never met me before. And if you had, you wouldn’t remember.” The man pulled down his hood. His bald head was covered in tattoos that sectioned off his head. Words were written in each space. A red scar went through one eye. “I am Blind Ivan, and we are the Society of the Blind Eye.” He raised his hands. The cultists raised one hand swept it back before letting them fall at their sides. Blind Ivan raised one finger. “Formed many years ago by our founder… our founder…” Blind Ivan’s hand lowered. “Does anyone remember who he was?”

          Gideon chuckled, “We’ve been using that ray on our own minds an awful lot.”

           “But why would you do all this?” Stanford demanded. “What do you have to gain?”

          Blind Ivan put his fingers together. “As you have no doubt discovered, Gravity Falls is a town plagued with supernatural strangeness. No one knew how to stop the things that went bump in the night, so out founder invented the next best thing: a way for us to forget. We took it upon ourselves to help the troubled townsfolk by erasing the memories of the strange things they’ve seen. Now the people of Gravity Falls go about their lives ignorant and happy, thanks to us. And, as a perk, we help ourselves forget things that trouble us. Everyone has something they’d rather forget. In fact, your own brother was about to use that ray on himself. Isn’t that right?”

          Stanford, unable to move, looked at Stanley. “Are you serious?”

           “Heh. Maybe,” Stanley muttered.

          Stanford looked back at Blind Ivan. “Don’t you see? This is ruining lives! What about ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? She lives in a hut and talks to animals, thanks to you. Don’t you feel bad about that?”

          Blind Ivan held up the memory gun. “Mmm, maybe a little.” He shot himself with the ray. “But not anymore.” He fidgeted the circle to spell out “SUMMER”. The cultists put their hoods back on. “You won’t be telling anyone else what you’ve learned here. Say good-bye to your summer.” He aimed the gun at them.

          Stanley flinched and shut his eyes. Dan’s glare melted into a look of fear. Stanford looked up at him and set his gaze. “And there’s nothing we can do about it, right? We’re just going to forget everything that happened this summer?” His voice now dripped with sarcasm. “Which is a good thing, I guess. We’ll just forget all this stuff ever happened here. Since it’s a lie, anyway.” He rolled his eyes. “Here I thought I found someone I actually liked. Guess it’ll make going back to New Jersey easier.”

          Blind Ivan scoffed, “Stop being a bunch of babies.” He gasped as “Old Woman” Chiu chucked a trashcan lid at the gun, effectively knocking it out of his hands. “Owie!”

          The kids gasped, “Chiu?!”

           “Old Woman” Chiu charged through the ranks of the robed members and, once he stopped by them, sliced their bonds with a pickax. “I raided the mining display for weapons. Now fight!” she cried and faced the crowd.

          Stanley dragged out a banjo and cackled like a madman. Dan pulled out a branch with a racoon on it. Stanford took an informational board about dysentery. “Oh, come on!”

           “They know too much!” Blind Ivan cried. “Don’t let them escape!”

          Dan swung the racoon stick so hard, the nearest cultist, the man who married a woodpecker, collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

          Stanley swung his banjo and knocked Thompson back. “Get this song out of your head, sucker!” He bashed another person with it nearby.

          Stanford ducked under the arms of a cultist attempting to attack him. Gideon grabbed him by the collar. “Ah-ah! No, you don’t, boy.” Stanford gripped the informational display he held with more strength and swung it. Gideon let go of him with a shout and put a hand on his nose.

          Stanford dropped the display immediately and raced to the other side of the room, where Chiu’s memory tube lay. “Mrs. Chiu’s memories!”

          Tats raised his fist. “Oh no you don’t!”

          Stanford gasped, shoved the tube into one of the transfer tubes, and ducked. Tats’ fist sunk into the brick wall. “Stanley! Catch!”

          Stanley raced to the other end of the tube. The farmer tripped him and grabbed the tube once it flew out. “I’ll take that, thank you. Give it up, boy. You’re no match for the unstoppable power of-” He stopped speaking as Stanley turned the tube. It caught on Sprott’s robes and tore them off. Sportt threw the tube in surprise. Stan recoiled, disgusted, as Sprott was in his underwear. “That’s right. I don’t wear nothin’ under my robe. Not gunna apologize for that. Maybe y’all should apologize for bein’ a bunch of prudes.”

           “Ew!” the boys recoiled from him.

          Dan picked up the memory gun. Blind Ivan snatched it away from Dan, shoved him, and turned to Stanford. “Give me that tube.”

           “Never!” Stanford snapped and threw the tube up. “Old Woman” Chiu held the pipe that sucked the memory tube in. “This belongs to Chiu!” He and Blind Ivan chased the memory tube.

           “The society’s secrets belong to us.”

          The tube spat out the memory tube at the end of the hallway. Blind Ivan tripped Stanford and, as Stanford recovered, grabbed the tube. Stanley helped Stanford to his feet. Dan stood behind them. They were weaponless. Blind Ivan and turned the weapon on them. “End of the line.” The group tried to back up, but there was nowhere for them to go. “By tomorrow, this will all seem like a bad dream. Say goodbye to your precious memories.” The memory gun blazed in blue light.

          Stanford shielded his eyes. “NO!”

          The room lit up in the intensity of the glare.

          Stanford opened his eyes. He… was fine. He looked up. “Old Woman” Chiu stood in front of him. She blinked her eyes in a slow haze. “Chiu. You took a bullet for me.” The memory gun flashed in blue light. “Old Woman” Chiu shuttered as she was blasted in the face. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”

          She blinked and then grinned. “Okay as I’ll ever be!”

           “ _What?”_ Stanford breathed.

          They watched as “Old Woman” Chiu hobbled forward, a giant grin on her face. Blind Ivan shot her again and again. “Why… isn’t… this… working?!”

           “Hit me with your best shot!” “Old Woman” Chiu laughed. “My memory’s been gone thirty-odd years. You can’t break what’s already been _broken!_ ” Blind Ivan backed up until his feet pushed back the memory tubes. “Old Woman” Chiu swiped the memory gun away from him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Say good night!” She pulled him forward and whipped her head forward at the same time. Blind Ivan tensed and then fell out of her arms, utterly unconscious, as she head-butted him. Her memory tube rolled away from them. It tapped Stanford’s foot. Stanford grinned and picked it up.

 

          The cultists, many of whom had been rendered unconscious in the fight but woke up, were tied to the same pillar Dan, Stanley, and Stanford and been tied to. Stanley prowled around them. “Is that all of them?”

           “Nope,” Stanford stated. “Fiddleford’s missing.”

           “Eh, whatever.” Stanley stood beside him.

           “Unhand us!” Blind Ivan demanded.

          Stanley sneered, “It isn’t so fun being tied up, is it? Hey! Wanna draw on their faces?” Stanley took out a marker and, giggling childishly, crossed out “KNOWLEDGE” on Ivan’s forehead and wrote “BUTTS”.

           “What?” Blind Ivan glared at Stanley, who laughed. “That’s not funny!”

           “It is totally funny,” Stanley snickered.

          Stanford cracked a smile. “Yeah, it kind of is.”

           “It’s objectively funny,” Dan shrugged.

           “We’ll have our revenge,” Blind Ivan growled. “We’ll never forget what you’ve done!”

          Stanford raised an eyebrow and held up the memory gun. “You sure about that?” Blind Ivan’s anger dissipated in an instant. Stanford entered “SOCIETY OF THE BLIND EYE” into the gun and pointed it at them. “Say cheese!” The cultist struggled against their bonds. The gun went off in a flash of blue light.

 

          They stood outside in the dusk valley, now. Stanley held out a bag. People filed out, one by one, in their normal clothes. They dropped money in the bag as they went. Stanley grinned. “Thanks for visiting the Museum for Gold Miner Appreciation Night! Be sure to tip your hosts on the way out!”

          Blind Ivan, who was the last to leave, stopped and looked down at them. “I’m sorry, but what’s my name? Where am I?”

          Stanford winced. “I might have overdone that one.”

          Stanley picked up a banjo and handed it to Ivan. “Your name is Toot-toot McBumbersnazzle. You’re a traveling banjo minstrel! You have a song in your heart and funny tattoos on your head.”

          Blind Ivan nodded and strummed the banjo. “Yes, I am Toot-toot McBumbersnazzle. Cheers!” As he walked, he played the banjo. “Toot-toot is my name…”

          Stanley bit his lip to keep from laughing. Stanford turned to “Old Woman” Chiu. “Are you ready to remember? To find out who you really are?”

           “Old Woman” Chiu shifted her weight. “I’m not so sure. What if I don’t like what I see?”

          Dan patted her shoulder. “We’ve come all this way. Go on.”

           “Old Woman” Chiu looked down at the tube and then at the kids.

 

          The old woman set the tube inside of the holder on the computer. The computer screen came to life. A green outline of the Blind Eye symbol appeared. It fell away to show an image of Candy Chiu, thirty years younger, in her study. “DAY 1.” was stamped in yellow at the bottom left part of the screen.

          _Candy Chiu stood up straight and tall and stared at the camera. “My name is Candy Chiu and I wish to unsee what I have seen.”_

          The kids gasped. “Old Woman” Chiu whispered something in her native language.

          _Twenty-late-something-year-old Candy put a hand on her head. Her fingers snaked through her long, shiny black hair. “For the past year, I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher.” She let go of her head. “He has been cataloging his findings about Gravity Falls in a series of journals.”_

          As she spoke, Stanford took out the journal and opened it. It flipped to the page of weird symbols and lines.

          _“I helped him build a machine which he believed had the potential to benefit all mankind. But something went wrong. I’ve decided to quite the project.” She held her hands behind her back._

          Stanford lowered the journal to watch the screen.

          _“But I lie awake at night, haunted by the thoughts of what I’ve done.” She shuttered and then straightened herself out again. “I believe I have invented a machine that can permanently erase these memories from my mind.” She pulled out the ray gun. It was shiny, hardly touched, and very new. “Test Subject One: Candy.” She pressed the muzzle of the gun to the side of her head and shut her eyes. The flash went off._

          The screen turned to static before turning on again. “DAY 5.” Was stamped on the bottom.

          _Candy, bright-eyed and excited, appeared on the screen. “It worked! I can’t recall a thing!”_

          Day 22.

          _Candy held up a black notebook with the Blind Eye written on it. Behind her, her workspace was disheveled. The image was everywhere. Her potted plant had wilted. A handprint slapped across the wall. “I call it: the Society of the Blind Eye!” She threw away the red marker she had been holding and held up the book so that it was under her nose. “We’ll help those who want to forget by erasing their bad memories!”_

          Day 74.

          _Candy Chiu, her workplace in shambles, shivered. She was disheveled and kept brushing her hands off with her other hand. “HELP ME” scrawled across the side of the room in red spray paint. “Today, I came across a colony of little men, very disturbing. I would like to forget seeing this.” She held the memory gun up to her head again._

          Day 189.

          _Candy Chui wasn’t wearing a coat. Her shirt was torn. Her arm was in a cast and a sling. One lens of her large, circular glasses was cracked. Her eye twitched. “I accidentally hit another car in town today. I feel terri-bibble!” Her glasses fell down her nose so she straightened them. “Terrible. I keep forgetting words lately. I wonder if there are negative side effects o–”_

          Day 273.

          _Candy Chui’s hair was graying and she shivered like a leaf. She wasn’t in her study. She stood inside a motel room. A blizzard picked up outside. “I saw something in the lake, something big!” She tore out a bit of her hair. Her glasses fell off her nose._

          Day 618.

          _Candy Chiu was no longer shivering. She was still in the motel and still had that cast. She was no longer wearing glasses. “My hair’s been a-fallin’ out, so I got this hat from a scarecrow. Hey, are my pants on backwards?_

          Day ???

          _Candy Chui, wild-eyed and now in the dump, laughed and chattered on in gibberish. “Yroo Xrksvi! Girzmtov!”_

          Static.

          They stared at the screen as it hissed in static. Mrs. Chui stayed at front, her arms hanging at her sides and shoulders slumped.

          Stanford looked at Mrs. Chui. “I’m so sorry, Chui.”

          Mrs. Chui walked up to the computer and took out the memory. She turned to face them, though she kept a fond gaze down at the memory tube. “Aw, hush. You kids helped me get my memories back, just like you said you would.”

          Stanley looked at his brother and then candy. “But did you want those memories back?”

          Mrs. Chui smiled. “After all these years, I finally know who I am. I messed up in the past. Now that I see what happened, I can finally put myself together again.”

          Stanford looked down at the journal. “So, you’re not the author. But you worked with him. Do you remember who he was?”

          Mrs. Chui narrowed her eyes in concentration. “It’s coming back to me, but… I need more time.” She looked at the computer and smiled. A pair of green-lens glasses sat on the table. “And reading glasses.” She put them on. One lens fell out. “I have some remembering to do.”

 

          They hopped into Dan’s truck. Mrs. Chui sat in the back with Stanford and Stanley this time. She looked through Journal Three. “It’s all so familiar… Almost like I can remember…”

 

          Stanford and Stanley waved goodbye to Dan and Mrs. Chiu as Dan dropped them off at the Mystery Shack. The two in the truck waved before they departed.

          Stanford looked down at the journal and put it back in his jacket. “Well. We… learned a lot today.”

           “Mrs. Chui worked with the author and isn’t a crazy old woman,” Stanley agreed.

           “But the author is still a mystery,” Stanford sighed. “Do you think Grauntie Mabel would know?”

          Stanley shook his head. “If she knew, she’d tell us.”

           “Yeah.” Stanford took a deep breath.

           “Cheer up, Sixer!” Stanley put his elbow on Stanford’s shoulder and lean on him. “We learned a whole lot today and we got Mrs. Chui’s memory back! Sorta! Now, who wants victory nachos?”

          Stanford shrugged but couldn’t help a small smile. “Okay, that does sound good.”

          Stanley let go of him and ran into the house. Stanford followed him. Stanley grinned and laughed as he slipped and nearly fell in the kitchen trying to stop. Stanford, no matter his brother’s antics, couldn’t summon the same excitement. Fiddleford stayed on his mind. Why did he have to be part of that stupid cult? Why didn’t Fiddleford tell them anything? Stanford shook his head and watched as Stanley dumped a bunch of chips and cheese into a bowl.

 

          Moonlight streamed in through their window. Stanford opened his bleary eyes. He looked about. Why was he awake…? Gompers slept soundly by him, so it wasn’t like the baby goat woke him.

          _Click, click, click._

          Stanford sat up. Something was at their window. Stanford stood up and looked at it. A robot humming bird a bit bigger than Stanford’s hand was on their window sill. It clicked the window a few times again. Stanford opened the window. It hopped onto the topmost book on the stack that was on their desk. “What are you?” Stanford looked over the bird. Something was attached to his back. A square like a bookbag attached to its back. He flipped open the little top and pulled out a piece of notebook paper that had been folded quite a few times. “Fiddleford?” He didn’t even need to look at the signature to recognize the small handwriting covering the front and back of the notepaper.

           “Wha…?” Stanley opened his eyes. “What are you talkin’ about?”

           “I think Fiddleford just sent us a note. Using a robot bird.” Stanford gestured to the bird.

          Stanley sat up. “What? What’s it say?”

          Stanford sat down next to Stanley on his bed and flipped on the light.

           “ _Dear Stanford and Stanley._

          _This is Fiddleford. I know I messed up. I just wanted to apologize. But I also want to explain what happened. For as long as I can remember I’ve been seeing weird things. When I was a baby, seeing a fairy was very interesting. But as I got older, things started scaring me. My dad was very, very adamant about magic creatures not existing. So, any time I tried to tell him about something, he’d snap at me. I got so scared because I had no one to talk to. I was afraid of upsetting your great aunt so I never told her. When I was ten, I found the Blind Eye symbol. I didn’t know what it meant, so I waited by it. After two days of waiting, one of the cultists appeared. When he told me he could help me forget, I was very tempted. But instead, I asked why and what. I joined the Society soon after. I was never in the formal meetings to erase anyone’s memories. I stuck around like an apprentice would, going to meetings a few times every week. I’d watch from behind one of those pillars when someone got their mind erased._

          _“When you two came to Gravity Falls, I got very scared. You brought a gnome monster on us. I was terrified that you’d bring more bad things with you. But I was really curious since you two are the only ones to talk about magical creatures- or remember them, for that instance. So that’s why I encouraged you to follow the Gobblewonker. I wanted to see what you’d do._

          _“When we became friends, I told the Society what I was planning. They agreed not to target you guys, that I would be the one to erase your memories. I reverse engineered the memory gun while they weren’t looking. That’s why I have my own personal memory gun. Mrs. Pines found my father yelling at me for going off about how some gnomes stole our fish bait. She got a real nasty fight with him. Stanley got so scared of the gremloblin, I thought that he’d turn out like me. He’d get scared of all the paranormal creatures. I told myself I wouldn’t use it on myself, but after that Shape-shifter attack I couldn’t sleep, I could think about anything but it, I was too scared. When you found my memory gun, Stanford, I couldn’t risk letting you know. I was to keep the Society safe. That’s what I told myself, anyway. In reality, I knew that if you found out I was part of a cult that took memories from people without their consent, you’d be disgusted with me. I couldn’t bear the thought of it._

          _“I wanted to leave the Society right then, but I told myself that by being part of this cult, I could keep you two safe from them. They had good intentions, but not good actions, as you know. Since you two erased the memories of the Society members, I’m the only one left, if you can say that. So, I guess the Society of the Blind Eye is no more. I’m quitting my job at the Mystery Shack tomorrow. Mrs. Pines knows that my dad is really busy fisherman. I’ll tell her that he needs help with his work. She’ll understand that. I’ll clean up the rest of the Society and find something to do with the mess left behind. I’m really sorry about what I did. If I told you earlier, none of this would have happened. So, I don’t blame you two._

_-Fiddleford”_

          Stanley and Stanford looked at each other. Stanford clutched the letter in his hands. Stanley made a small huffing noise. “I don’t… is it just ’cause I’m tired, or did that sound wonky?”

           “It’s because you’re tired,” Stanford replied. “This sounds like Fiddleford.” He tapped his foot. “He’s our friend, even if he was part of that evil cult.”

           “He sounds sincere.” Stanley nodded and yawned.

           “What do you think?” Stanford held up the letter. “What should we do? Forgive and remember? Or let him go?”

          Stanley lay back down. “Forgive him or whatever. I don’t want to do more chores around the Shack. If he leaves, I’ll just have to do it for him.”

          Stanford rolled his eyes and took out a piece of notebook paper and a pen.

 

          The window knocked. Fiddleford, just in the sight of the window, looked up. He picked up the remote. The humming bird flew out of the window and spiraled down onto the ground below. The young inventor shut the humming bird down and took out the letter, which was a mix between Stanford and Stanley’s handwriting.

          _“Dear Fiddle ~~ford~~ nerd,_

          _“You should have told us earlier. But we understand. You should probably stop trusting cultists. ~~I mean, that was pretty dumb~~. You’re still our friend, even if it feels like you seem to put both hands over your eyes and try and walk sometimes. Or you’re ~~a coward~~ fear prone and ~~overly~~ cautious. Don’t quit the Mystery Shack. We need you here._

          _“Also, Stanford isn’t letting me write, so I locked him out of the bedroom. I pretty much know a lot about you, probably. I like having someone as nerdy as my bro around so he stops trying to teach me physics. Physics is tough, (no it isn’t!) but it’s even tougher when the person teaching you knows a bazillion ~~more smart~~ (smarter) words than you. Anyway, you’re cool with me just as long as you don’t go joining more cults without telling us._

          _“Sorry about Stanley. You’re my friend, too. I said some bad things so I’m sorry about that, too. I know you’re afraid of a lot of things, Fiddleford, but Stanley and I shouldn’t be on that list. Also, physics is easy once you get the hang of it. (no it’s not!) I don’t know what Stanley’s talking about. (Ford’s a poop head)_

          _“Anyway, we just wanted to say: ‘apology accepted’._

          _“-Stanford and Stanley”_

          Fiddleford grinned and held the paper to his chest. He took a few breaths and scribbled down another on another piece of paper. He folded it, stuck it in the pocket on the humming bird’s back, and turned the robot humming bird back on. It fluttered into the window. A few minutes later, the window knocked. The humming bird flew back down to him. As Fiddleford wrote, he could see two heads pop out of the window. Fiddleford waved. They waved back.

 

          In the basement, Grauntie Mabel heaved a large barrel up and poured its contents into a machine labeled “FUEL”. “All right, you’re getting closer.”

          She, a mug in one hand a pad of paper in the other, approached the glowing triangle machine. “Every day, you’re growing stronger.” A gust of wind picked up and sucked the mug, pen, and notebook into the portal. Grauntie Mabel gasped and put her fez back on her head as it had tried to escape. She laughed. “Yeah! OW!” She yelped as a pipe scraped past her hand and flew into the portal. She grimaced and bandaged her hand. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to pull this off and _no one_ will get in my way!”

 

 **Z** BCKELMWEM THTF TUTBSU DK **X** ATRJ UR BSBFIIGYG **Y** GW GT ZFTK-MJFD HIGJTZZW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey, looks like someone didn't write "Soos and the Real Girl" and "Gift Shop of Horrors"! Also, look who's back from an unannounced haitus! Also, _forget_ look who's also going to another summer semester in college! Hey!  
>  Also, yes. Fiddleford IS part of the Society of the Blind Eye. I've been planning this since the beginning. It would just feel weird to have Fiddle not be _vigenère_ part of this mess. Plus, it gives the Stan twins a reason not to trust him, more character development for them all, and more screwing up on Fidds' part because why not?


	6. Blendin's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unknown to the twins that had ruined his life, Blendin is at large. In their own time, the twins discover something just as large- their best friend's birthday was today and no one told them! So, what happens with two problems, each colossal in their own right but insignificant to the other party, clash?

          _June, 207̃012._

          Deep blue buildings glimmering in cyan lights clear of debris or wear floated just outside the reach of a city under the full moon. A great chunk was missing from the bottom of the moon while fissures, some deep and wide and others tiny and thin, broke through the bottom like shattered glass. Hovering before an infinity-shaped building was a sign labeled “Infinetentiary”. An alarm went off and the sign, as well as a few radio-tower-shaped poles nearby, blazed with flashing red lights.

          On the ground crowded by tall, dark buildings blazing with nighttime lights, a hooded figure, wheezing in exhaustion and fear, skittered around a corner and dove into a side street. The glowing green sign with a giant baby head in it labeled “TIME BABY IS WATCHING” set a greenish glow over his midnight, hooded cloak. However, the sign quickly turned scarlet with the giant yellow letters: “EMERGENCY” above and below a yellow-lined box containing the golden words: “ESCAPED CONVICT ON THE LOOSE”.

          The cloaked figure raced down through a sparsely populated alley. The time police, led by the people who caught Blendin–Dundgren and Lolph–raced after him. A black orb with a green light flew above them as they pursued the escaped convict. A deep voice boomed, “HALT!”

           “I’ve got to hand it to this perp,” Dundgren admitted, flashing a glance at his blonde-haired partner. “-no one’s broken out of the Infinitentiary before.”

          Lolph huffed in agreement, “He’s either the bravest time convict I’ve ever seen, or the dumbest.”

          The cloaked figure, spooked further, turned to run into another alley. He instead ran straight into a wall. Confused and disoriented but still pumped full of fight-or-flight adrenaline, he attempted to move forward but walked into a few yellow barrels and collapsed. He rolled over so that he wasn’t on his stomach and set his hands on his knee. His hood fell off, revealing his identity. Blendin growled, “Oh! My time-knee! Oh, time-dangit!”

          Dundgren stopped before him. “Definitely the dumbest.” He lowered his gun as other people, a tank, and two helicopters surrounded him.

          Lolph commanded, “Freeze! You’re surrounded by the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron. Anything you say can, and already has been, used against you in future court.”

          Dundgren pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Instead of a metal chain, purple electricity arced and knitted itself together to create a wobbling bind. “This is it, Blendin. End of the timeline. Any last words?”

          Blendin’s eyes, hidden by goggles went wide. He held an arm in front of himself and sputtered. “I-I-I-I…” He shut his eyes, threw his hands down at his side, and yelled, “I INVOKE GLOBNAR!” By this time, a crowd had accumulated. They gasped and the word “Globnar” rippled through their ranks.

          Dundgren stared at him in surprise. The woven purple electricity fizzled out of existence. He put away the cuffs. His look of surprise melted away as he put on a mask of emotionlessness. Dundgren took out a black, green-etched tablet. “Very well. Speak the name and century of those accused.”

          Blendin stared back at him. “The kids that ruined my life: Stanford and Stanley Pines, 21st century.” The tablet in Dundgren’s hands, which previously held the letters “TPAES” switched to: “SEARCHING” surrounded by a darker blue box on its cyan screen. Eventually, it arrived at a screen showing Stanford and Stanley, giggling and laughing, hitting each other with hollow, plastic baseball bats. “LIVE FEED” ran across the top and “LOCATED” across the bottom, all in blue. A scarlet stamp ran across the screen from the bottom left corner to the top right. “GLOBNAR TRIBUTES”. The screen was reflected on even then giant screen in the city as they replaced the “criminal found” screen.

           “So be it,” Lolph stated. “May Time Baby have mercy on their souls.”

 

          _June 13 th, 2012._

          The Mystery Shack stood bright and happy as ever. Inside, Stanford put a few coins into the vending machine and punched in the code “22C”.

           “Can-dy! Can-dy! Can-dy!” Stanford and Stanley chanted as they watched the metal coil with the bag of Yumber Jacks bring it forward. However, it stopped one coil too soon. The bag drooped, but did not fall free.

           “No! It’s trapped!” Stanford gasped.

           “Everything is terrible forever!” Stanley pressed his forehead to the glass face of the vending machine.

          Fiddleford walked around to look at it. “Oh! Psst, guys.” The two took a step back and looked at him. A bright smile lit up his features. “You wanna know a trick?” He put away his screwdriver, tapped the machine a few times and then hit the lip of it with his elbow. The door opened. “A genius taught me that once,” Fiddleford claimed as he grabbed the “Yumber Jacks” bag with his middle and forefinger and dragged it down. As an afterthought, he took out two more pieces of candy and shut the door. “Here ya go!”

           “Whoa!” Stanford gladly took the candy from him.

           “That’s awesome!” Stanley gasped. “Fidds, you are seriously amazing.”

          Fiddleford stuck a few coins in the machine to pay for the items and chuckled. “Aw, thanks! Don’t mention it. I’d do anything for the Pines family.”

           “Fiddle!” Grauntie Mabel called. “Come up help me with this, uh… whatever it is, please!”

          Fiddleford looked up and called back, “Coming Mrs. Pines! See you two later.” He ran off, leaving his wallet on the counter in his rush.

           “We better make sure he gets his wallet back.” Stanford picked up the brown hog-themed wallet.

          Before he could walk off with it, Stanley put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait! I’ve never seen Fidds’ wallet before. Don’t you want to learn some Fiddleford secrets?”

          Stanford shook his head. “No, not really. Secrets are secrets for a reason. If he hasn’t told us something, it’s because he doesn’t want to. Besides, the last time we learned a big secret from him…”

           “He’d tell us if he was in another cult, you know that.” Stanley’s gaze flicked to the wallet. He gasped and picked out a card poking out of it. Fiddleford’s picture was on the front along with the company name, his rank “Good Enuff”, and four explosion stickers put on four of five boxes. “Oooh! He has a membership to Laser Tag! I didn’t know he liked Laser Tag.”

          Stanford put the card back. “Yeah. That’s cool, but- Ugh! Stanley!”

          Stanley took out a little middle-school ID card. Fiddleford had a calm, if slightly nervous, smile. “Fiddleford H. McGucket, 6th grade… wait, look at this!” Stanley pointed to the bottom. “His birthday is–!”

           “Today!” Stanford finished. “Whoa… why didn’t he tell anyone?”

          Stanley put the card back in the wallet. “Isn’t it obvious? He wants someone to throw a surprise party for him!”

 

          Later that day, Hank finished hanging up a banner that screamed “IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!”

          Hank tied off his part and looked over the table with cake, soda, cups, and plates on it. “Wow. You guys really thought of everything.”

          Stanley puffed out his chest. “Yeah. You know, twins are birthday _experts._ ”

          Stanford nodded and stood beside Stanley. “We’ve shared every birthday together, so we know how to make them _amazing._ And we’re related to Mabel.” The twins high-fived. Stanford turned his head. “Oh! I hear footsteps!”

           “Places, everyone!” Stanley hissed and dove behind a table.

          Nicolas walked Fiddleford, who was blindfolded, around a corner. “Okay, um… are we going much farther?”

           “Nope!” Nick yanked off the blindfold and stepped back.

          Fiddleford winced and rubbed his eyes at the sudden light before looking about the party constructed for him. Stanford, Stanley, and Hank jumped up behind the table and threw confetti into the air. “Surprise!” they cried. Fiddleford froze, eyes wide as moons, as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening.

          The three ran over to his side. Stanley elbowed Fiddleford. “Happy birthday, you king! We got everything you love. Chocolate cake, biscuits, beans–” He turned around to point at a poster. “And ‘Pin the Tail On The Donkey’! Which, of course, could easily become ‘Pin-The-Tail-On-Anything-Close-To-You’.”

           “I… I…” Fiddleford stuttered, hardly even breathing.

          Stanley took out a camera. “Picture time! Come on!” Stanford, Hank, and Nick gathered around Fiddleford and smiled. The camera flashed and ejected a picture. The kids–all but Fiddleford–looked at it. Although Stanford couldn’t look happier, Nick had his usual sugar-induced excitement about him, and Hank had a calm smile, Fiddleford was… frowning.

          Stanford looked up at him, his own smile gone. “Fidds, what’s wrong?”

           “I-It’s, uh, it’s nothin’,” Fiddleford stuttered and ran his fingers through his own hair, unfortunately plucking out a few strands in his stress. “Ah’ve got ta, uh, fix a pipe or somethin’.” Fiddleford walked off, head down, eyes closed, and trembling hands at his side.

          Grauntie Mabel and Dan walked around the same corner, their gaze following Fiddleford. “Hey, did you kid see Fiddleford? What happened to- oh no.” Dan’s eyes went wide and the two stopped as they looked over the party. Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her mouth. “Okay, so it’s not your fault as you didn’t know. But Fiddleford _hates_ his birthday.”

           “ _What?_ ” Stanley and Stanford asked, their voices so close together they were an echo.

          Dan shrugged. “It’s a total mystery. He’s been like this since way before I knew him. It’s just some weird personal business.”

          Stanley shook his head. “C’mon! There’s got to be _something_ we can do!”

          Dan sighed. “We’ve tried everything.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yeah, I even tried getting this day removed from the calendar. Guess I’m banned from flying, now.”

          They looked around the corner. Fiddleford sat on the porch, his legs curled up to his chest and sad eyes cast down at a crumpled paper in his hands.

          Dan shook his head. “Look, I don’t think we should be getting involved.”

          Stanford shook his head. “No one should be alone on their birthday. There has to be a way to cheer him up.”

           “You’re right, Ford!” Stanley agreed. “It’s time for us to bring out the big guns!”

 

          _Mr. ZZZ’s Big Gunz Laser Tag_ flickered and blazed with all types of colors ranging from bright hues of red to deep shades of purple. Lights flickered and shot from place to place. People milled about, children running around at their feet. Stanford, Stanley, Grauntie Mabel, Dan, Hank, and Nicolas walked inside. Stanford held onto Fiddleford’s wrist as Fiddleford wore blindfolds again.

           “Okay, look guys. Ah trust you, but Ah’d rather just, uh, Ah got stuff ta do,” Fiddleford stammered lamely. He tipped his head. “Wait… huh? Hot dogs? Sticky floor? F-future sounds?” Fiddleford tapped the ground with his foot. His shoes resisted the force a bit as the floor was sticky. He took off his blind fold as soon as Stanford let go of him. He looked around. “L-laser tag? I love laser tag.” Soon enough, his smile had tentatively returned. “How’d you guys know?”

          Stanford shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

           “Yeah we didn’t go rifling through y- oof!” Stanley winced as Stanford elbowed him in the gut.

          Behind Stanley, a TV switched to a background of a broken city, most of its buildings lying in ruins. “MISSION BRIEFING” glowed in light blue letters. As the camera moved to take in the scenery, the announcer stated, “It’s the year 8000. Society: collapsed. Fog machines: everywhere.”

          Dan patted the light purple wall. His hand sunk into it a few inches. “Are the walls made of spray-painted mattresses?”

          Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her chin. “Yeah, I think this used to be a mattress place.”

          Fiddleford donned his laser tag gear. “Um… I don’t know guys. I don’t really- I don’t know if I’m up to it right now.”

          Stanford smiled. “Don’t worry, Fidds. As soon as you start playing with us, you’re going to have a great time!”

          Stanley gave him a sharp nod. “Yeah! We promise that no matter what happens, we will not leave your side!” He held up his laser gun like a trophy. “Besides, Stanford’s so terrible it’s hilarious. I’d betcha you could easily- oof!” He laughed as Stanford shoved him.

          Fiddleford adjusted his grip on the gun. “Well… I guess I could give it a shot.”

          They lined up behind a set of double doors. A long screen overhead stated: “STAND BY”. Then, the announcer’s voice blared through the speakers above them. “Prepare for laser battle! In three, two, one, _GO!_ ” The doors whipped open as the letters on the screen changed to the word “GO” in pastel green. Nicholas, Hank, Dan, and Grauntie Mabel ran in first. As soon as they were through the doors, Stanley and Stanford ran forward. Fiddleford nearly tripped over himself as one shoe became untied. With a short mutter, Fiddleford tied his shoe and ran inside. The Stan twins were not there, however. He looked about. “Ford? Lee? Guys?”

          The double doors before Stanford and Stanley flashed white and within seconds they were inside a large, colorless room. The white wall vanished so that no one else could intrude. Stanley looked about. “Whoa! This place is so cool! Look at how real these laser guys are!” He looked up at Lolph.

          Stanford stiffened as he looked up at two faces they’d only seen for a few very memorable moments weeks ago. He put a hand on Stanley’s shoulder and looked up at them. “Stanley, I don’t think these are laser tag people.” He looked back. Behind white bars, they could see Fiddleford tie his shoe. “Fidds!”

           “Oh no!” Stanley raced to the wall. However, the image was gone. He kicked the solid white wall that replaced it. It clanged like hard steel.

           “Nice try.” Lolph’s sharp voice brought them back. Not even the smallest smile tricked them into thinking that he was not wearing a mask with an eternally hard expression. “But that’s solid time-tanium, kid! There’s only one way out of here.”

          Blendin, only his head and hands visible, stated, “Through me.” The kids gave him a puzzled look. He looked down and grumbled. “Oh, uh…” He fiddled with his watch. His suit changed from scene to scene. “Sorry…. C-come on…” His uniform turned gray again. He lowered his hands and stared at them. “Through me! And that’s what it would be like if I’d just… gotten it right the very first chance, but it’s still as effective.”

          Stanford and Stanley gasped. So, these _were_ the time people! Stanley looked him over. “You’re that time traveler guy! …what did you say your name was, again?” Stanley tapped his foot. “Uh, Blendo… Blondin… Blar-Blar! That’s it, right?” Stanford looked at him. _Blendin Blandin. Wow you have a poor memory._

           “It’s Blendin!” Blendin snapped. “Blendin Blenjamin Blandin! How could you _not_ know my name after you ruined my life?!”

          Stanford and Stanley looked at each other and then back at him with a comically exaggerated look of confusion. _Well, he got arrested. But if it was their fault, why would his life be ruined?_

          Blendin tapped his wrist. “Initiate flashback!” A wide screen appeared before them. The hologram projected the scene where Blendin had been dragged away. “It was after you stole my device to win your stupid goat!” The scene changed to Blendin with Lolph and Dundgren in front of a counter. “I was cast out of the Time Anomaly Removal Crew; my whole life’s purpose.” The man behind the counter tore off Blendin’s name tag. His gray suit turned to black and white stripes. The scene changed to him in a meal line in a prison. He got his meal and sat down, turning his mashed food into the shape of Stanford and Stanley’s faces. “And then I was given ten squared life sentences in time prison.” He smashed his fist into the images so that their faces were unrecognizably distorted and smeared them together. “I spent every day since then planning my vengeance.” The hologram turned off. “And now, finally, it has come!”

          Stanford glanced back. “Okay, we’re sorry about all that, but we’re in the middle of something _very_ important.”

          Stanley nodded, “Yeah! It’s our friend’s birthday and we promised not to leave his side.” Stanley didn’t give them the big round eyes a regular kid would give upon being pulled away from a birthday party. His gaze was hard and flicked between the three of them. His words were not a beg, they were a challenge.

          Blendin scoffed, “What? You think some dumb birthday matters right now? Do you know where you are?”

          Stanley cut in with a snide remark before Blendin could finish his own sentence, “A box made of titanium?”

          Blendin’s sneer grew bigger. “Welcome to…” He pointed his finger to the opposite wall. It shimmered and turned into many white strips of light like a cell. “Globnar!” The three approached the bars so that they were right in front of the action.

          Outside was complete chaos. Someone fell through an infinite loop of portals as one was above and one was below him. Someone else ran around, screaming, as they were on fire. Another person wielding a spear chucked his weapon at a giant purple blob with a clock for a face. The spear fell into its gelatin body and it quickly swallowed the man. People chased each other with glowing swords. Each hit from the sword turned the victim to a different age. Another couple battled with sticks ending in two large, glowing round pieces. They hopped as the ground they were on was a clock and one hand would spin around them like a tightrope. Two other people sparred upside down on a glowing purple top-spinner.

           “Is this a reality show?” Stanley prompted. “Are we in a cartoon?”

          Blendin crowed, “It’s gladiatorial time combat!”

          Ahead of them, just yards away from the staring children and former time anomaly remover, two men fought- one with a black suit accented blue and another with a black suit accented green. The green one fell with a huff. His weapon skittered out of his hands. The one in the blue stood victorious. He was raised up on a platform and stared down at the loser with cruel dark eyes.

          Blendin explained, “The winner gets a precious time wish.” A glowing orange orb with a white hourglass suspended within hovered in the man’s left hand. “-qnd then decides the winner’s fate!”

          The man now in his shadow cowered. He shook his head and drew into himself. “N-no! Please!” He shook his head. The blue one held out his right hand, raised it, closed his hand into a fist so that his thumb was up, and turned his hand down. A large, cruel smirk drew across his features. The man in green shrieked in terror as a pink laser larger in radius than the man in green was long engulfed him. Before their very eyes, he was vaporized into nothingness.

          Stanley and Stanford stared at the empty space in sheer terror. Blendin cackled and turned to them. “And the two of you are officially _challenged!_ ” Blendin turned around and walked further into their white-cell prison. “Dundgren! Get me my war paint!”

          Stanley turned to Stanford. “Ford, we _have_ to get out of here.”

          Stanford looked about. His gaze fell on the tape measure on Lolph’s toolbelt. “I have an idea.”

 

          Fiddleford walked through the laser tag arena on light feet. “Ford? Lee? Uh… requesting backup? Ahh!” Fiddleford yelped as lasers came from all directions.

          Janice, standing next to him, shot a laser at his chest a few times and laughed. “Ha-ha! Laser Janice!”

           “G-guys?” Fiddleford looked about.

 

          Stanley cleared his throat and looked up at Lolph. “Oh my stars!” Stanley gasped, “Could it be? My little Lolphie?” Stanley asked and then grinned. “It’s me! Your great-great-great-” Stanley glanced at Stanford, who waved his hands a few times and then held it up. “-great-great-great-great grandfather! From the past times.” Stanford carefully took the time device from Lolph’s belt and took a quiet step back.

          Lolph stared at Stan with narrowed eyes. A look of realization was tailed by a small smile and round eyes. “Gramp-gramp?”

          Dundgren painted Blendin’s face a lime green color and in a shape so that a sideways timer went over his eyes like a racoon’s mask. “Yeah, neon green is good, this is the color for me. It’s fierce-” Blendin glanced back and gasped. “Who? What? No! You can’t let them escape! Stop them!” Blandin dove for Stanford, who evaded him and ran off, brother at his side. Dundgren tripped over Blendin and fell on the hard ground.

           “Gramp-gramp!” Lolph gasped. “How could you?”

           “I ain’t nobody’s Gramp-gramp!” Stanley cackled and locked arms with Stanford. “See you never, suckers!”

           “No!” Dundgren and Blendin yelled in slow motion.

           “Hurry!” Stanley hissed. “Back to Fidd’s birthday!”

           “Okay, I think I’ve got it.” Stanford opened up the time tape. They vanished in a spark of blue energy.

 

          _June 13 th, 2007._

          They appeared a few feet above a mattress and huffed as they landed belly-first on the old thing. Stanley got to his knees. “Uh… are we back?”

          Stanford got up, too. “Oh, no! Look! Stanley, we went too far back. This isn’t laser tag!”

          Stanley groaned. “Uuuugh! Why does time travel have to be so complicated?”

          A blue spark of energy buzzed above them. Stanley and Stanford dove under the bed and hid. Dundgren looked about. “It looks like they’ve overshot their destination by five years.”

           “I don’t see them,” Blendin growled and wiped off the face paint. He was wearing handcuffs with purple electricity instead of chains. “You better find those kids!”

          Lolph stated, “You’ll get your justice Blendin.”

           “You better!” Blendin hissed and then jumped off the bed. “I’m going to keep stammering until you find them! I-I-I-I…!”

          Lolph growled, “I hate that guy.”

           “Let’s move,” Dundgren stated.

          They jumped, flipped over the mattresses and landed in front of the door. “Yeah!” They fist-bumped and followed Blendin out.

           “Okay,” Stanford breathed. “We just have to go forward five years. We can be back before Fidds even realizes we were gone.”

          Stanley pulled out the time device and gasped. A shock of blue electricity arched through a control panel under the bent flap in the machine. “The time thing is busted! Can you fix it?” He immediately handed it to Stanford.

          Stanford took the device and looked it over. “Maybe. I need some tools, though. …I think I know where we can find some.”

          A sign stating “MYSTERY SHACK 1 mile” popped up in the street as they walked out of the mattress store. “Okay, let’s try to lay low. We don’t want to change, or cause, the future.” They looked about the scenery. Despite the streets looking nearly the same, the people were different. Sherriff Bl- Officer Blubbs walked through the street. Tats from the biker joint was getting a tattoo in a parlor next to the mattress store. Tyler held a boombox. They passed up a graffitied billboard of Gideon and Bud.

           “Wow. Everything is so _different,_ ” Stanley gasped. Kid Janice chased Kid Toby through the street with a water gun. “Yet it’s the same!”

          They passed a corner where Thompson Determined, dressed up in a sparkly red and blue outfit with a cane, danced. “Yeah!” He shot a finger gun at himself in the mirror. “Look out, Broadway, here I come.”

          Stanley banged on the glass to get his attention. “This dream goes nowhere, Thompson!”

          Thompson looked at him and then sighed. “Oh, marbles.”

 

          The two kids stopped in the woods just shy of the Mystery Shack. Grauntie Mabel didn’t look as if she had changed a day. She spoke to the crowd in a loud, clear voice with an optimistic smile and grand gestures.

          Stanford and Stanley took off their laser tag vests. Stanford looked over at Grauntie Mabel and then nodded. “Alright. Coast is clear.”

           “Now’s our chance!” Stanley hissed and darted across the lawn, Stanford at heel. A younger version of Waddles oinked at them as they ran to open the giftshop window and climbed in. Immediately next to them was a box full of tools. It sat beside the ice machine, which was partially taken apart. Stanley landed behind him.

           “Alright, let’s see…” Stanford picked up a red screwdriver and tinkered with the time machine.

           “Aw, come on, candy! Fall!” The light complaint could be heard behind them. Stanford, too engrossed in his work to notice anything, didn’t look behind him. However, Stanley did. In front of the vending machine, a young, dirty blonde kid tapped the window. His treat hung over the edge of the metal spiral that held it prisoner.

          Stanley tromped over to him. “Allow me.” The little kid took a few steps back to allow Stanley room. “You just gotta know the trick to it.” He patted the machine’s front and then hit it with his elbow just like Fiddleford had done. The door creaked open. He took a handful of the desired snacks, shut the door and held it out for the boy. “Jackpot!” As soon as he saw the kid’s face, however, he gasped. Eight-year-old Fiddleford donned in a pretty suit and a birthday hat smiled up at him. “Thank ya, mister!” Fiddleford’s accent was much thicker. He turned and walked away, admiring the new treats. “You must be some sorta genius!”

          Stanford stood up and admired his handiwork. “Alright. I think I’ve got this thing working.”

          Stanley grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “ _Ford!_ Ford! Look.” He turned Stanford’s face so that he saw Fiddleford.

           “No. Way,” Stanford breathed.

          Mr. McGucket shambled into the gift shop, where Fiddleford was admiring a shirt. “There ya are! Fiddle, ya shouldn’t keep wanderin’ off. You don’t want ta be late for yer big day!”

          Fiddleford held up his hand so that his grandfather could take it. “Sorry, Grandpa.”

           “Big day?” Stanley turned to Stanford. “And he’s actually happy! This could be the day when that bad stuff went on! We can finally find out why Fidds hates his birthday.”

          Stanford nodded and put away the screwdriver and time machine. “Got it. We just need to be quick.”

 

          Outside of the McGucket household, the kids peered over the hedge. They watched as kids ran around the decorated yard and laughed. A long table covered end-to-end with plates and silverware and lined by chairs dominated part of the yard. Fiddleford sat down in a seat near the end, his bright eyes scanning the yard. Two girls on either side of him, eighteen perhaps, cooed over him and ruffled his hair.

           “Aw, look at ya.” Mr. McGucket shambled up to him. “You deserve all the love ya get, little one. Hey! Ah even got a birthday cake with a horse on it.” He opened the cake box to reveal an orange cake with a horse on it. Fiddleford cooed at it and, when his grandfather set it down, took the little horse and looked it over.

          Stanford shook his head. “Why does Fidds hate his birthday so much? This looks _amazing!_ ”

          Stanley nodded. “Does it ever.”

          A kid sat at the front of the table.

          Fiddleford looked up from the horse figurine he had been playing with. “Oh, um, Ah’m sorry. But could ya trade seats? That’s the Seat of Honor!”

          The boy tipped his head. “Who’s that?”

           “My mom!” Fiddleford announced, his smile widening. “Ah haven’t seen her in a while. But she’s comin’ today!” The doorbell rang. Fiddleford wiped off his face and jumped out of his seat. “That must be her!” The twins followed him to the window, where Fiddleford stood in front of the front door. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Alright, Fiddle. Today’s the day. Be calm.” He opened the door. His brilliant, nervous grin died.

          A mailman stood at the door. He looked over a postcard from New Orleans. “Postcard for… Fiddlefar- Fiddleford!”

          Fiddleford gently took it from him. The mailman left. Fiddleford stared at the face of the card. “NEW ORLEANS” popped out in white words from the background of the post card, which looked like a party with people clinking bottles of root beer in front of a casino. He flipped it over. His look of devastation became more heartbreaking, if that was possible. Mr. McGucket looked around the room and stopped a few feet away from Fiddleford. Fiddleford read it aloud. “Sorry, Champ. Couldn’t make it this year. Real busy again. See you next year for sure! -Mom.” Even after he’d read the last piece, Fiddleford stared at it.

          A boy roughly his age and look, though a bit stockier and tanner skinned, patted his shoulder. “Aw, don’t worry, cous’n! She’ll be here next year!”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, Thistle.” He knelt in front of the side table by the door and took out a box. When he lifted the top, it revealed a pile of post cards all with the exact same words. The only difference was their state of origin. Fiddleford, clutching the box, stood up. “Ah’m goin’ to go lay down. Ya’ll can party without me.” He trudged off to his room, leaving his cousin and grandfather behind.

           “Oh, no! Fiddleford!” His grandfather picked up a misshapen, wrapped bag. “What about your presents?”

          Stanford and Stanley sat down outside, their backs to the window. Stanford sighed. “So that’s why he hates his birthday. It’s when he realized his mom isn’t coming back.”

          Stanley stared at his lap, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He did not speak. Janice sprayed Stanford in the face with a water gun and laughed. “Hehe! Dorks! Young Jan!”

          Inside the house, Fiddleford sat glumly on his bed. It was dark as the only light came from the sun through the window, though the sun was at the wrong angle to shed much light inside. Mr. McGucket stood outside with a plate of multicolored, robot-dinosaur cookies. “His mother is a dead-beat! If she shows her face here again, Ah’ll tear her ’part meself!” He took a deep breath and walked into Fiddleford’s room. The open door spilled light into the cluttered room. “Fiddle! Ah made ya cookies shaped like robot dinosaurs.” He presented the plate to Fiddleford.

           “Ah don’t want cookies,” Fiddleford mumbled. “Ah wanna see Mom again.”

           “And I reckon she wants ta see ya again,” Mr. McGucket comforted. “She’s just busy.”

           “Busy in New Orleans,” the kid muttered.

           “Aw, yes. …trust me. You will feel better someday.”

          Stanford and Stanley watched the conversation before ducking down again. “This is awful!” Stanley complained, his voice hushed. “I don’t know if we can fix this, Ford!”

           “We promised him a happy birthday,” Stanford agreed. “But how can we fix it now?”

           “Th-this way!” Blendin announced.

          The kids gasped and ran off further into the backyard so that they hid behind a tree.

          The men walked over to where the kids had been hiding. Blendin looked about. “They’ve gotta be around here somewhere. I-I-I think I heard them!” His gaze snapped to a tree.

          Lolph pointed his gun at the tree and cried, “Freeze!” His laser gun blasted apart the tree. Young Janice looked up at them with wide eyes. She dropped her water gun and ran off, crying. Lolph continued searching.

          Blendin sat down on a bench. “Man, the sooner I defeat those kids in Globnar, the sooner I can win my time wish.”

          Dundgren smiled. “Tell you what I’d do if I had a time wish. Retire early. Spend more time with the kids.”

           “Naing Niang Niang Niang Niang, with the kids! Don’t you know a time wish can do literally anything? Any impossible problem solved-” Blendin snapped his fingers.”-just like that? I mean, imagine the possibilities.”

          Stanford gasped. “Wait, Stanley, that’s it! The time wish! If we defeat Blendin in Globnar…”

           “…then we can wish Fidds’ mom came to his eighth birthday!” Stanley agreed. “We’ll fix all of his birthdays!” Stanley snapped his fingers. “Just like that!”

          Stanford’s smile faded. “Do you think we could win, though?”

          Stanley nodded. “It’s our only chance. Besides, it’s for Fidds.” He tipped his head to the open window. Fiddleford glanced at the cookie tray and pushed them away. “He would do the same for us.”

          Stanford nodded. The two got up and walked out from behind the tree, hands behind their heads. “We surrender!” Stanford announced.

           “It’s them!” Blendin gasped.

           “Freeze!” Dundgren pointed is laser gun at them.

          Lolph took out his own gun. “Careful! They’re from the past. They might have powder muskets or slap bracelets!”

          Stanford shook his head. “Look, no tricks this time.”

          Stanley nodded. “We’re ready to challenge you.”

          Blendin laughed. “YES! Let the Globnar begin! Prepare… for… GLOBNAAA-” Blendin’s shrill cry stopped. Although his chest and mouth still moved, no sound came out. He stopped and raised an eyebrow.

          Lolph, one finger on his wrist, smirked. “It turns out I can mute him.”

           “I wish we’d known that earlier.” Dundgren sighed with a small smile.

          Lolph turned to the kids. “Initializing!” He pressed another button. The entire group was gone in a burst of energy and a flash of light. The red screwdriver from the Mystery Shack fell to the ground.

 

          _June 207̃012._

          They appeared in the center of the Globnar stadium, which was empty. People in the stands roared and howled and pounded their fists in the air. Stanford and Stanley, eyes wide and flicking about, were on the big screen along with a very confident Blendin. All three of them wore handcuffs with the purple electric band, now. The very ground shook beneath their feet. Stanford’s heart thundered. His confidence was fading, fast. Quite suddenly, the idea of being a renegade, running from time law, wasn’t so unappealing.

          The stands broke in one area. A giant circle in the ground vanished and a baby in a metal jumper floated up. An hourglass imprinted on his forehead. He glared about the stadium with eyes as large as Grauntie Mabel’s car. His shadow, even from so far away, blanketed the kids, Blendin, and the two officers. Two floating robots with rods floated on either side of him. The baby raised his arms. His voice boomed through the stadium like thunder in a quiet night. “SILENCE!”

          The stadium fell quiet, as if the very air choked them into silence- all but one that was. One raucous fan still cheered. The baby glared at him. His pupils turned red and a red laser burst from them, frying the offending man in seconds.

           “That’s one big baby,” Stanley breathed.

          The baby continued, “Welcome, Globnar tributes! I have a very important nap to get to, so let’s make this quick. You each have a chance to settle your time-feud through gladiatorial combat.” He lowered his arms. Behind them, shelves full of glowing pink weapons appeared.

          A new robot, this one carrying an hourglass shaped bottle filled with a substance that looked like the universe floated above him. “You have until Time Baby finishes this bottle of cosmic sand.”

          Time Baby crossed his arms and turned his head. “No!”

           “Come on.” The robot poked him with the bottle.

           “Ow!”

           “It’s good for you.”

           “Wah!”

          Blendin pointed to the kids. “Get ready, kids. When I get that time wish, you’ll wish you were never born! Or, you wish you will because _I’ll_ wish you were never born!”

          Stanford smiled. “Yeah? There’s two of us and one of you.”

           “And we have hair!” Stanley boasted.

          Blendin cackled and twirled a spear so that it pointed the spear at them. “And I have _training._ What do you think I did all those years in prison?”

          Stanford stared at the spear. “Uh oh.”

          Time baby raised his arms. “Let the Globnar… BEGIN!”

          Stanford’s, Stanley’s, and Blendin’s handcuffs fell off. A scoreboard appeared nearby. Instead of team names, it just had a picture of them with a score reading “0” beneath them. Blendin had one picture while Stanford and Stanley shared another.

          Stanley got into the modified Taekwondo stance Grauntie Mabel had taught him. Stanford glanced at Stanley’s feet and copied him. Blendin screamed and raised his arms. _Let the games begin,_ Stanford thought, a grim scowl on his face.

          The “games” were relentless and brutal. Stanford and Stanley were in a team together, but they didn’t even add up to Blendin’s age, much less his skill.

          In the first round, Blendin dueled Stanley on the clock with the sticks that had large, pink balled ends. Stanley was able to hold his ground surprisingly well. Stanford ran up behind him and lifted the bar to hit him. Blendin spun around quicker than they could. The bar hit Stanford’s weapon and Stanford’s chest and swatted him away like a fly. Stanford landed on Stanley, causing them both to drop their weapons and lose. Blendin’s score changed from “0” to “1”.

          Throughout the series, the twins took turns taking the lead depending on their skills. Stanley drove the gravity-defying motorbike as they raced against Blendin on a narrow track. The twins did a wheelie to speed up and pass the finish line. The Stans’ score changed from “0” to “1”.

          Another was when they played a game similar to chess. Stanford quickly took over _that_ one. Their game was soon interrupted by a cyclock, which was like a cyclops but with a clock for a face, as it punched the game to smithereens with its large arm, and raised his smaller arm above him as he roared.

          Soon enough, their scores tied at “244”. Yet they continued playing as the games went on and _on._ Once, Blendin chased the kids as he ran in a giant wheel. Stanley and Blendin had a “time-dog” eating contest- which was with hotdogs but from the future. Another game involved running and, in Stanley’s case, fighting, cuckoo clock robots. They had a wheelbarrow race, where Stanford held up Stanley’s legs and a robot held up Blendin’s legs and they ran. Stanley and Blendin fought with spears on a tightrope while Stanford swam through a sea of clocks to flee a time-shark. They played the largest game of what was possibly Jenga they’d ever seen. Each block was longer than the kids were length wise. The last was when all three of them pushed the Cyclocks through a large door in the wall. It’s three-fingered claws tore through the wall on its way in.

           “Very good,” Time Baby’s voice boomed through the stadium. “You have escaped the Cyclocks.” The three contestants turned to him. Stanford tried to lean on Stanley as nonchalantly as he could as his legs were about ready to give out on him. The twins gulped heavy, shaking breaths. Bruises had long since started to form on their battered bodies. Stanford winced as he breathed too deeply. He might’ve bruised or, worse, cracked a rib. Stanley kept his left hand loose, as his wrist had been fractured punching a cuckoo clock.

           “Yes!” Blendin hissed. “Blendin for the almost win!” Above them, the scoreboard was “764” to “763”, with Blendin being in the lead.

          Time Baby chewed on his foot for a bit before lowering it so that he could speak. “There is only one final challenge for Globnar. An ancient game, thousands of years old, chosen for its exemplification of pure strategy:” Blendin, Stanley, and Stanford grimaced and lost any cockiness or hope. “The ancient art… of Laser Tag!” A whole maze spread out around them. Pink, translucent vests and laser guns appeared on them as well. At the very end, at the top of an incline, was a glowing orange orb holding the hourglass. “The one who touches the victory orb first will win!”

          Stanley looked at his gun. “Laser tag? Seriously?”

          Blendin smirked. “Oh, I know it doesn’t seem that challenging now, but just wait till they turn on that fog machine. You’ll be done for! You just wait until ya-” Blendin cut himself off as Stanford, completely unphased, shot him multiple times in the chest with the laser. Each time the laser hit him, the vest exclaimed “HIT!”

           “Aw, man,” Blendin sighed, his cocky demeanor turning to resignation.

           “Stanley! Grab the orb!” Stanford yelled.

           “Got it!” Stanley ran to the top of the incline and bounced on the orange ball. As soon as he touched it, everything went white.

          Time Baby finished off the cosmic sand. “It is FINISHED!” he announced. Another robot patted his back. Time Baby burped. The entire stadium roared their approval and excitement. Stanley and Stanford’s score shot up to “999”, glowed green, and buzzed.

           “No!” Blendin cried and put his hands to his head. “No, no, no, _NO!”_

          Stanley and Stanford high-fived. “YES!”

          Time Baby descended a few feet. Dundgren and Lolph appeared on either side of Blendin, who was still panicking.

           “You have made victory in Globnar. Before I give you your time wish, tell us: what fate have you decided for the loser?”

           “Oh jeez,” Blendin whimpered.

          Stanley, caught up in the moment, threw his arms into the air and screamed, “DEATH!” Blendin gasped.

           “Stanley!” Stanford glared at his brother.

          Stanley lowered his arms. “Uh, sorry. Got caught up in the moment.”

          Stanford glanced at Blendin and turned his back to him Stanley followed suit. “So, Blendin did try to wish us out of existence. However, it was our fault for ruining his life.”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, he’s too sad to be a real _bad guy_ anyway.”

          Stanford took a deep breath. “Okay. If we treat him right in the present, he’ll be better in the future.” Stanley gave him a firm nod. The twins turned back to Time Baby. Stanford announced, “Okay. Now, as long as you keep an eye on him, we’d like to set Blendin free and restore his position at the Time Anomaly Correction Unit.”

           “And give him good hair!” Stanley piped up.

           “So be it,” Time Baby stated and waved a glowing hand at Blendin.

          Blendin’s hand cuffs fell off. “Wh-what? You’d do that for me?” A puff of hair shaped like a mustache appeared on his head. Blendin squeaked, “I got my job back!” He looked at Lolph. “I feel like hugging someone!”

          Lolph stared at him. “I can kill you in eight different ways.”

           “Yes, sir.” Blendin stood up straight and faced forward.

          Time baby rubbed his face. “Now, children.” The hourglass-shaped thing on Time Baby’s forehead glowed orange. A time wish floated between Stanley and Stanford. “What is it that you want for your time wish?”

          Stanford squared his shoulders and faced Time Baby. He snapped a glare at his kleptomaniac brother who stared at the pretty gold object. Stanley stood up straight, too. “Thank you, but it’s not for us,” Stanford confessed.

           “Not for you?” Time Baby echoed, genuine confusion falling over his squishy features. “Then who? Who is worthy to receive such power?”

 

          _June 13 th, 2012._

          Fiddleford stood in the laser tag arena. “Ford? Lee?” his voice was much weaker now. He sighed and hung his head. “Who am I kiddin’? Ah’m not up for this.” He dragged his feet to the exit. Before he left, he took out a quarter. “Heads Ah stay. Tails Ah go home.” He flipped a coin into the air. Suddenly, everything around him stopped. Fiddleford tipped his head at the coin, which now floated in mid-air. “What’s this?”

          Stanford and Stanley appeared behind him. “Fiddleford!” they cried.

          Fiddleford jumped and spun around. “Stans?” His surprise and fear quickly turned into joy.

           “We’re so sorry for leaving you,” Stanford gasped as they ran up to him. Oh, his legs felt weak. “We got caught up in this time travel nonsense–”

          Stanley nodded and shut one eye. “And there was a time cyclops–”

           “And don’t forget about the-” Stanford started and looked at Stanley.

          Stanley chuckled and said at the same time as his brother, “-time race!”

          Stanley turned back to Fiddleford. “But the point is, Fidds, we think we know how to fix your birthday.”

          Fiddleford stared at them. “Wh-what? Really?” He put a hand to his eyes and looked at them as if seeing them in a new light. “Ya’ll did all of that… for me?”

           “And that’s not all!” Blendin announced and put a hand to his wrist. The Time Wish floated above them, casting its orange glow on them all. “The power to alter time paradox free in any way you choose.”

          Stanley nodded. “We thought the only thing that can make you happy is meeting your mom.”

           “But the choice is yours,” Stanford admitted.

           “Ya mean, by touchin’ this thing, I can see my mom? And ya’ll battled through time and space just ta get this for me?” He hesitated and took out the postcard from New Orleans given to him five years ago. He looked down at the written message and then at the twins who beamed at him.

           “What are you waitin’ for, man?” Stanley chuckled. “Go ahead!”

          Fiddleford smiled. “Alright. Here goes nothin’.” He touched is hand to the orb. The orb crackled and then flashed a brilliant gold. The four shielded their eyes against the glow. When they opened them, they found that Stanley and Stanford’s wounds had vanished and their clothes were repaired. Stanford didn’t feel like passing out anymore!

           “What the-?” Stanford started.

           “Huh?” Stanley looked over himself.

           “Bam!” Fiddleford announced. “I fixed ya guys up!”

          Stanley looked up at Fiddleford. “But what about meetin’ your mom?”

          Fiddleford shrugged. “Well, birthdays are about spendin’ time with the people that love you. And ya know what? My mom didn’t care a lick about me. She wouldn’t visit me once, let alone fight monsters through space and time. B-but you guys did, to make me happy.” He sighed. “I’ve been plain ridiculous this entire time. Whoever my mom was, she can take a hike.” He tore the post card in half and threw it in the garbage bin. “I know who my family is. It’s you guys.” He didn’t even need to speak further for the twins to hug him. “Thank you. F-for givin’ me the best birthday ever.”

           “Are you kidding me?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just wasted?! Do you know how many have died to get the time wish; the wars that were started?!” Blendin’s cracking voice reached a new pitch.

          Fiddleford chuckled and stood up straight, allowing the twins to let go. He patted his side, which now had a toolbelt around it. “That’s not all. I wished for this toolbelt with tools that won’t ever break.”

          Blendin shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

          Fiddleford looked between them. “There’s still ten minutes before Laser Tag closes. Do you guys want to play?”

           “Yeah!” Stanley agreed. The three of them, laughing, ran into the laser tag zone.

 

          _June 13 th, 2007._

          Little Fiddleford walked into his backyard, his party hat still on his head. “W-was there an explosion? Ah think Ah heard an explosion.” He nearly stepped on a scarlet screwdriver just outside of the window. “Huh? What’s this? Mystery Shack?” he read aloud the words on a blue label.

 

          Fiddleford, the screwdriver still clutched in his hand, walked over to the Mystery Shack. He’d nearly gotten there when a teen boy wearing a gray shirt with a question mark on it backed out of the house.

           “Hon, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be the worst mechanic I’ve ever met and if I’ve told you twice, I’ve told you a hundred times not to go taking stuff apart when it’s still in the gift shop. You no longer work here, understand?” Grauntie Mabel huffed in a temper, hands on her hips. The boy turned and ran off. “Poor kid. I hope he goes into a few more of those nerdy science-y classes before college or he’s a dead man.”

          Fiddleford walked up to her and squeaked, “M-Ma’am?”

           “Oh! Who are you, kiddo?” Grauntie Mabel smiled and looked down at him.

          Encouraged, Fiddleford held up a screwdriver. “Ah-Ah believe this is yours.”

           “Why it sure is! Thank you! Say, do you know how to fix a golf cart?”

           “Uh-uh! Maybe? I mean–?”

           “Good! Take a crack at it! You’re hired.” Mabel waved her hand and approached a group of tourists. “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up!”

          Fiddleford watched her go. A grand smile adorned his features. He took a deep breath and ran off to find the broken golf cart.

 

ZWL WVQ’T LFMU MV VHYSM R FVWHCS BF UL D S **G** CTZGN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay! This was written incredibly awkward, I'm sorry. It would fit _birthday_ more for Maria, from the "canon" Relativity Falls. Ah, well. I worked with _vigenère_ what I had. Besides, Eight-year-old Fiddleford was just too cute to pass up, I'm sorry.


	7. Northwest Mansion Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Northwest Manor is about to throw its annual party. But when a storm blows in and they find it harbors more than some rain and thunder, they call upon the only paranormal expert in town.

          Lightning arched between the storming clouds over Gravity Falls. Thunder cracked and rain drummed against windows and hissed over stone and metal. Within the sanctity of the multistory, multimillion dollar mansion, people buzzed about. Preston and Auldman Northwest gathered in the dining room, where servants prepared the dinner for a feast.

          Auldman looked over a paper in his hands. He ignored his son, who was bossing around servants and micromanaging every detail. He wielded a rolled-up newspaper and would hit people on the head if they did something out of line or were too slow or even did everything right except for being in his way. Both the patriarch and the heir wore spiffy black suits, Auldman wearing a red tie and Preston wearing a green tie. “Hmm… yes, a good diversity. Millionaires and billionaires.”

          Preston smacked someone on the head as they put down a fork. “Put the oyster fork at an angle! We’re not _animals_ , man.”

          Auldman lowered his paper. “Now where the devil is-?” He cut himself off when he saw his wife walk in, a simple, lake foam green dress laced with simple embroidery of a slightly darker color. A darker ribbon tied around her waist and ended in a bow in the back. Pearls dressed her neck and gems hung from her ears. Auldman frowned. “Pacifica, I _told_ you to wear the seafoam dress! Go change this instant.”

          Pacifica frowned back. “Auldman, I like this dress. I think it would fit.”

          Preston looked up from his scolding of a servant over the direction of a folded napkin.

          Auldman shook his head. “Go change.”

           “But-” she started. Auldman rang a small, golden bell. Pacifica quieted immediately. Preston looked at the bell and then his mother and father.

           “Yes, Auldman,” she stated, her voice slightly lower. She turned and managed to make it to the archway when the ground shuttered. The Northwests and their staff stopped what they were doing and looked around. Objects from around the room gave off a soft, bluish hue before floating up into the air.

          Auldman’s eyes narrowed. “It’s… _happening._ ”

          Then, everything from oyster forks to candelabras shot down. People screamed and ducked and ran as the instruments they once assembled attacked.

          Auldman stamped his foot. “You are my _possessions!_ Obey me at once!” His bark turned into a yell as plates, silverware, and a chair were pelted at him.

          Most everyone, including Auldman, Preston, and Pacifica, dove under the table and hid. Preston exclaimed, “This is a disaster! The party’s in just twenty-four hours!”

           “Surely there’s _someone_ who can handle this type of nonsense,” Auldman agreed.

          Pacifica looked at the newspaper in Preston’s hands. It had loosened a bit. The tip of a giant bat’s wing stuck out from under the coils. “Preston, hand that over, please.” Pacifica held out her hand. Preston glanced up at her and shoved the paper in her hands. The front page held a large picture of the clocktower. Stanford, a taser in his hands, warded off a vampire bat who could otherwise swallow him whole. Deputy Durland and Sherriff Blubbs yelled in fright and held each other.

          Pacifica stared through the window into the stormy night. Just beyond the walls, beyond the shut iron gates, lay the sleepy town of Gravity Falls and every one of its inhabitants bundled up against the summer rain. “I know just the person.”

 

          Lightning flashed and boomed over the Mystery Shack. Pots, pans, and buckets were set up around the house to catch leaking water. Stanford lounged on the couch, a book in his hands. A soggy lollipop stick, which had long since lost its flavor and was now unraveling, stuck in his mouth.

          In the background, the TV went off about a ghost hunting show. _“You asked for it, you got it! An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers on the ‘Used to Be About History Channel!’”_

          Stanford glanced up. “Pfft. Well, guess it beats re-reading this book for the fourth time.”

          Thompson Determined’s voice came through the TV. _“We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news!”_

          Stanford groaned. “Aw, what?”

           “It’s on!” Grauntie Mabel announced.

          Stanford jumped and fell off the living room chair. “Ah! What the heck?!”

          Grauntie Mabel, wearing a yellow sweater with purple trees and a brown buck, plopped down in the armchair. Stanley hopped into her lap. “Turn it up!” Mrs. Chiu landed next to her with a kooky cry of exuberance. Fiddleford stuck to her hip, his grin just as wide as Stanley’s.

          Stanford sat up and adjusted his crooked glasses. “What’s going on? Mrs. Chiu?”

          The TV showed Thompson Determined, sweaty and dirty and soaked, standing outside of the Northwest Gates. “Well, tonight’s the night!” Thompson announced. “But I’ve been out here for _days!_ ” Around him were people, tents, and garbage. He stood in front of the ‘NW’ plaque accented by vines. The camera panned over the massive crowd, held at bay by metal bars, that led to the mansion’s gates. Two black-suited, sunglasses wearing guards stood at the gate. “The Northwest family’s annual ‘High-Society-Shindig-Ball-Soiree’ is here!” The camera went over the crowd. “And even though common folk aren’t let in, that doesn’t stop us from camping out for a peak at the fanciness!”

          Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Mrs. Chiu oohed.

          Stanford looked up at them and then the TV. “Uh… why is this so important?”

          Stanley huffed, “It’s only the most important and amazing party of all time! Rich food, richer girls.”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “They say every basket has a live quail inside!”

          Stanford rolled his eyes. “If you haven’t forgotten, Preston is the worst.” A knock came at the door. Stanford looked about them. They were too mesmerized by the TV to care. The second time the door knocked, Stanford pulled himself to his feet. “And that’s not just jealousy talking,” he went on. “I’d say that to his face.” Stanford opened the door and raised an eyebrow.

          Outside, damp from rain that managed to make it past his midnight umbrella, was Preston. He was no longer in a suit. Instead, he sported what looked like an outfit that was supposed to be casual, but was so new and clean a plastic shard from the nametag stuck out the collar. A hat and sunglasses shadowed his face, gloves donned his hands, and a bandana wrapped around his mouth. “I need your help.”

           “You’re the worst.” Stanford shut the door in his face.

          The people gathered in the living room gasped.

          A heavy knock came to the door. Stanford opened the front door. Preston glared at him from behind his sunglasses. “Look. Do you think it’s easy for me to come to this… _hovel?_ ” He hesitated and his words became forced. “But, there’s something haunting Northwest Manor. And if you don’t fix it now, the party could be ruined!”

          Stanford caught himself thinking about the prospect of a ghost. It sure would beat their _last_ encounter. He could show off his monster-savvy skills to billionaires. Still, Preston was a jerk. There was no way he’d be offering something so tempting legitimately. “Why should I trust you? All you’ve _ever_ done is lie and humiliate us. You nearly got us killed _golfing!_ ”

           “It was your fault!” Preston was quick to counter. He shut his eyes. “Okay, just name your price. I will give you anything.”

          Stanley was summoned.

          The boy took Stanford by the shoulders and, with a cast away “Be right back, Preston!” dragged Stanford inside. “Dude! Do you know what this means?! If you help Preston, we get invites to the richest party ever!”

          Stanford recoiled. “What? Stanley, this is _Preston_ we’re talking about.”

           “But this is Grauntie Mabel’s dream,” Stanley complained and glanced back.

          Grauntie Mabel, Mrs. Chiu, and Fiddleford waved their hands. “Dream!”

          Stanford groaned. “Ugh! Fine.” He walked back to the door and held out his hand. “I’ll bust your ghost _but_ you have to give me four tickets to the party.”

          Preston pursed his lips. For a moment, he shuffled his feet, as if tempted to walk away. His eyes fell over to the two ladies and the mechanic. Eventually, he shoved his hand into his pocket and drew out a handful of letters. “Fine. Here. You’re lucky we’re desperate.”

          Grauntie Mabel, Mrs. Chiu, Stanley, and Fiddleford started chanting “Desperate!”.

          Grauntie Mabel hopped to her feet. “Fiddle, get the glue gun! Candy, grab the fabric. We’re making suits like no one has ever seen!” Preston grimaced, which caused Stanford to snicker.

 

          A grand limo drove through the designated driveway. It was flanked on both sides by guards, rails, and masses of people behind the rails. Rain tapped the glass and exterior of the car. The gate opened as a butler pulled the “MAIN GATE” lever by the front doors. The gate shut straight after the limo scooted inside. Two servants opened the front door for Preston and those who followed.

           “Welcome to the Northwest Manor, dorks. Try not to touch anything,” Preston ordered with a short wave of his hand. Grauntie Mabel, Mrs. Chiu, and Stanley gasped words of wonder. A cider fountain stood to one side. An ice statue of Preston was in another. A man carried a live, male peacock past them. A mosasaur skeleton hung above the main hall. Stanford looked up at it. He struggled to put down the feeling of awe. _They got a nothasuar skeleton? A_ mosasaur _skeleton?_

          Stanley laughed as they walked inside. “They weren’t kidding!”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Everything’s so _fancy!_ Fancy floors, fancy plants- fancy people!” She looked to a butler nearby, disturbing the curly pink, home-made hair accessory decorated by a hot pink rose she’d donned. It fit well with her fluffy, light pink dress accented by pink feathers along the collar, chest, and shoulders.

          Mrs. Chiu, whose silver hair had been done in a fancy swirl, held up a bag. “The rumors are _true!_ ” A quail and her young fluttered out of the handbag and strutted off. A few feathers fell over her greenish teal, ruffled dress.

          Stanley laughed. “Aw, sweet! Is that a chocolate fountain?!” He ran off, dragging Fiddleford with him. Neither of the boys had gotten new suits. Stanley’s was still a pale pink with ruffled edges and a light tie. Fiddleford’s rough, brownish orange suit was worn with age but otherwise well kept. Grauntie Mabel gasped and followed her great nephew. Candy, who’d been admiring a plant, stumbled and followed as Grauntie Mabel tugged her along.

           “Aaaand their gone.” Stanford stuck his hands in his own blue suit. He resisted the temptation to play with his curly, freshly done hair. _Ugh._ Although his jacket and jeans had been enough in his eyes, Grauntie Mabel was very persistent. It got down to “You take a shower and wear this outfit _or_ I hose you and then put this on you.” Stanford opted for the first option.

           “Ah! If it isn’t the man of the hour!” Auldman, flanked by Pacifica and tailed by a very smug Preston, stopped before him. “Hopefully you can deal with this little… _situation_ before my guests arrive in an hour?”

           “I’ll do my best,” Stanford stated, forcing himself not to show his discomfort, distain, and guilty excitement. _A ghost!_

           “Splendid!” Auldman clapped his hands together. “Preston, take our guest to the… _‘problem room’._ ”

           “Yes, Father.” Preston’s face fell immediately. He turned and strutted off, head in the air and hands by his sides. Stanford walked after him. Hoooo boy, this was going to be a long night.

 

          In the main room, Stanley and an unwilling Fiddleford split off from their small group. Fiddleford watched as Grauntie Mabel and Candy stopped by the food table. Grauntie Mabel stuck two sticks in her mouth and growled like a walrus, causing Candy to laugh.

          Stanley laughed and picked up a book. “Check it out! The Guest List!” He set it back down and started to flip through the pages. Fiddleford’s attention was on him, now. “Whoa, look at this hottie!” He pointed to a picture of a young girl donned in a fancy red and yellow accented dress. Her wavy amber hair fell over her shoulders and pulled back a bit to expose small, cute earrings. “Maria von Fundshauser! She’s a baroness from Austria!”

          Fiddleford shook his head and winced as the ten minutes of work done on his gravity-defying hair was shaken off. “Hold up, Lee. I don’t want to be the one to say this, but aren’t these girls a bit out of our league?”

          Stanley bit his lip. “Well… maybe. But come on, what league?”

           “Exactly,” Fiddleford agreed. “These girls are from rich families and own rich companies. They may as well live in a different universe. Besides, most a’ these girls would rather spend time with dresses and parties than the rough-an’-tumble life you wanna be a part of.”

           “That’s true,” Stanley agreed. “Yep. Totally true. Counterpoint: what’s the harm with a bit of flirting?” He shrugged and strolled away from the guest list. Fiddleford sighed but followed.

 

          Stanford opened an old door and stepped on a large lion rug. A backpack and a long, metal-detector-shaped device was thrown over his shoulder. The door creaked and sent light into the old room. “Whoa.” Mounted heads of all types of hunted creatures decked the walls. A large, ornate picture of a lumberjack stood above the fireplace. A taxidermy bear stood on one corner, paws raised and mouth open. A pool table lounged near one wall. Above them, a chandelier made of deer antlers hung. The antlers were arranged so that they curved in the same direction. A dark reddish light from the dim fireplace as well as the lightning outside of the giant windows.

           “This is the main room where it’s been happening,” Preston explained.

          Stanford looked about and nodded. “Yep. This place looks like it could be haunted. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He took out his journal and turned around. “CATEGORY TEN” marked the page. “Ghosts fall on a ten-category scale.” He flipped back through the pages until it landed on “CATEGORY ONE”. A cute little ghost with a kid’s helicopter hat on its head and a grin on its features was drawn just below it. A few glowing objects were drawn around it. “Floating plates sound like a Category One.”

           “So, what?” Preston smirked. “Are you going to bore it to the afterlife?”

          Stanford, refusing to let go of his smug smile, turned around and pulled out a round flask of water from his backpack. “Nope. I just have to splash some anointed water on it and it should be out of your probably fake hair.”

          Preston bristled. “What was that about my hair?”

          A blue light on the detector over Stanford’s back went off. “Shh!” He took out his EMF detector and started waving it around the room. “I’m picking something up…”

          Preston dialed down his glare to a frown and followed.

          Stanford stopped before the fireplace and looked up. The lumberjack in the painting didn’t have pupils. The detector shut off. Stanford mumbled and tapped it. It lit back up. “There we go.” He looked back up. The lumberjack was no longer in the painting. “Uh… Preston?”

          Preston screamed as a drop of blood spattered on the heel of his shoe. He staggered back and looked up. Stanford followed his gaze. The mounted heads opened their mouths. Blood dribbled from their eyes and throats and fell to the floor. The fireplace burst, letting out a wave of heat and flames and causing Stanford to scramble back so fast he tripped over himself. The mounted heads began to scream. “ _Ancient sins! Ancient sins! Ancient sins!”_ they chanted over and over.

          Around the room, books, furniture, antique weapons, and otherwise everything, all but taxidermy animals, that wasn’t nailed to the floor rose and started to fly. The antler chandelier crackled. Clouds swirled and everything spun in the direction of the antlers. “S-Stanford?” Preston yelled over the screaming heads. “What’s this?”

           “A Category Ten,” Stanford answered. His voice, shaken and meek, was drowned out by the damned screaming. He suddenly felt very cold. A cute dance was not going to solve this. Stanford held the bottle of anointed water. It shattered, sending glass and water over his suit.

          The mounted heads’ screaming changed. “ _Ancient blood and blackened skies. The forest dark shall once more rise.”_

           “DO SOMETHING!” Preston yelled and took Stanford by the collar. “MAKE THEM STOP!”

          Stanford pushed Preston away and put a hand on his neck to sooth the pain from the attempted strangle. “Calm down! It can’t get much worse than this!”

          The fireplace exploded again, sending flames and heat over the chilling room. A black skeleton hand burst from the flames and planted itself in the wooden floor. Another hand stamped into the floor before the crackling fireplace. Then, the arms appeared and rushed out. The midnight black, burning skeleton rushed out of the roaring flames. A great ax split the skull almost completely in half. Its fleshless jaws opened in a horrible roar. It shuttered and pulled itself out of the hellish flames. Flesh writhed and curled around the bones in its meaty hands and crept up its arms.

          The kids screamed and dove under the pool table.

          They stared at the being in pure horror as it shoved itself off the ground and stood up straight. The ax was still in his bald head. Tattered flannel covered his torso while broken overalls covered most of him. Some places were empty and showed nothing but black, smoldering bones. It opened its eyes, one black as the void while the other was pale yellow- just about the same shade of Bill’s eye though his pupil was round and small. His rumbling voice boomed through the room, silencing everything in its wake. “I smell a _NORTHWEST!”_ Blue fire burst from his bald head and chin to create a mane of wicked blue flames. He summoned an ax from thin air. Stanford was heavily reminded of the fire Bill would summon when ready to make a deal. Numbly, Stanford wondered if that fire was just as cold, though that was unlikely as he’d just emerged from a fireplace.

          The ghost of vengeance slammed his ax into the ground. His giant footsteps shook the room as he walked. Wood cracked and splintered as the ax he dragged snapped the hardwood like a dull knife through newspaper. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

          Preston turned to Stanford. “Hurry!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Read the dumb book already!”

          Stanford took out his book, whispering, “I’m looking! And it’s _not_ dumb. This book is saving our lives. Alright!” He stopped at the page over Category Ten. The “ADVICE” was left blank. He took out a black light from his suit and flicked it on. “PRAY FOR MERCY” scrawled over the bottom of the page. He turned off the light with a hiss. “Oh, come on!”

          The pool table raised up as the feet on the table softened into actual feet and skittered off. The boys froze. The lumberjack ghost turned and glowered at them. “You shouldn’t have come here!” the ghost boomed and raised his ax. The boys stumbled over their own feet in their rush to leave. The ghost’s giant ax split the wood in the ground where both of the boys had previously been huddled. He ripped his weapon out of the ground and stomped after them.

          Preston ran into the hall, which spread out into a maze of halls and rooms. “This way!” he cried and sprinted down one of the many identical halls. Stanford followed without question.

 

          Downstairs, Auldman opened the big doors for their guests. “Welcome, dukes and duchesses, sultans, and sportsmen.”

          A ballplayer walked up to the front. “Yo, what up, Auldo?”

          Auldman turned his attention to the ancient man sitting in a wheel chair. A blanket was thrown over his lap. “And reclusive, one-hundred-and-two-year-old mayor of Gravity Falls: Mayor Befufflefumpter.”

          The crowd ducked as three large, gray vultures swooped in and circled the mayor. The old man gestured vaguely to the birds. “It’s okay, they’re with me.”

          Auldman grinned and set a hand to his chest. “Tonight is a night where we enjoy on the finest of tastes and the snootiest of laughter.” A rich guy waved his hand and laughed in a hard, annoyingly snobbish fashion. A few people behind Auldman clapped. “That’s the ticket!”

          Near the food table, Stanley and Fiddleford stood. Fiddleford looked over the chocolate fountain. He stuck a fork in the fountain to part it and looked into the middle of it. “I’ve never seen one a’ these before,” Fiddleford admitted.

           “Yeah, me neither.” Stanley, leaning on the edge of the table, drowned a piece of food in the chocolate fountain and munched on it. “Tasty, though. Dude, get your head in the game. You can look at that stuff later. You should probably eat something.”

           “I’m fine.” Fiddleford waved him off and then gasped as Stanley pushed him. “Hey!”

           “See what I mean, beanstalk? Here.” Stanley took the chocolate fork away from him, skewered a few treats, and then stuck the chocolate-accented food in Fiddleford’s hand. Stanley grabbed a mini cake from the counter and munched on it.

           “Uh, thanks.” Fiddleford looked over the sweets and tried to eat it. “Oh, wow, this is sweet.”

          Stanley nodded, grinning. “That’s- oh-ho! I think I found somethin’ just as sweet.”

           “Just as sweet…? Oh no.” Fiddleford sighed.

          The butler announced, “Introducing Baroness Maria von Fundshauser.”

          Maria, dressed up in the pretty red and gold accented dress she had on in the picture, walked past them. She smiled and waved to the boys. “Guten tag!”

          Stanley grinned. Fiddleford shook his head. “Stanley, what did Ah tell ya? She’s out of your league. She’s not even from your country.”

          Stanley nodded. “True, true. She’s difficult… but not unobtainable. Fidds! Cover me.” He strode over to the girl. Fiddleford put down the half-eaten food, brushed off his suit, and followed his friend, mumbling about how bad an idea that was all the while. Fiddleford was _not_ a wingman. Paired with Stanley’s hilariously low chances… a disaster was brewing.

 

          Preston sprinted down another hall. Stanford followed, his nose stuck in the journal. The ghost floated behind them, cackling and knocking everything over as he passed.

           “Through the garden!” Preston ordered. “Watch out for peacocks. They cost more than your car!”

          Stanford didn’t comment. Instead, he cut through a muddy path in the courtyard with Preston to reach another open door. “Come on, come on-” he groaned, flipping through the pages, desperately looking over each page. “Ah-ha! Haunting paintings can only be trapped in a silver mirror!” He looked up and gasped. “Look! There’s a silver mirror _right there!_ ” Ahead of them, in a fancy room at the end of the hall, a large silver mirror hung. Intricate white designs covered the room along with pearly white and silver furniture.

          Preston grabbed Stanford by the arm and yanked him back before they could get in the room. “Don’t go in there!”

           “What? Why?!”

           “It has my dad’s favorite carpet pattern and we can’t track mud in there!”

           “ _What?_ Are you _serious?!_ ” Stanford barked. “So what if you’re parents get mad? I don’t want to die!” He tried to get into the room again, but Preston held him back.

           “We’ll find another way.”

          The ghost’s haunting laughter rang through the halls. “Come out!”

           “We don’t have time for this!” Stanford snapped and tried to push through. Preston yanked him back by the collar, causing Stanford to gag and turn around.

           “No! My dad would literally kill me!” Preston countered. Stanford rubbed his neck and looked up at him. Preston’s snobbish façade cracked a little. _My dad would literally kill me!_ Preston grabbed Stanford’s journal and tugged. Stanford gasped and tore it back. His muddy feet slipped on the pristine floor. The two tumbled through a painting into another room. The ghost flew past them and into the opposite direction, cackling all the while.

          Preston let go and sat back. Stanford sat up and rubbed his head. “Where are we?”

          Preston stared at the dusty, tarp-covered-objects filled room. “I don’t know.”

           “Hopefully the ghost doesn’t either,” Stanford remarked and stood up. Preston grunted and got to his feet. The sheet behind Preston shuttered and contorted to reveal a head and two large hands reach for him. “Watch out!”

          Preston spun around, screamed, and ran. He knocked over a box full of silver table objects. The sheet fell and the ghost of vengeance flew after him. “ _Your fate is sealed!_ ”

          Stanford nearly tripped over the box in his pursuit. He looked down and gasped. “A silver mirror!”

          In the far side of the room, Preston tripped over a rug and landed flat on his face. He turned around and looked up as the ghost hovered above him. He raised his ax. “Prepare to die NORTHWEST!” he roared and brought the ax down.

          Stanford jumped in front of the petrified rich kid and held out the mirror.

          Preston and Stanford were thrown out the window and, coiled up in a red curtain, tumbled down a hill. The red curtain got caught and let them both loose. The kids rolled to a stop in the garden. Stanford clutched the silver mirror like a lifeline. Both kids sat up. Preston looked at him. “Did you get him?”

          Stanford raised the mirror. The ghost roared and pounded on the inside of the mirror. “NO! FREE ME!”

          Stanford whooped and jumped up. “Category Ten, in the bag!”

          Preston stood up and brushed himself off. “Yes, well. We better talk to my parents.”

 

          They met Auldman, Pacifica, and a butler in the garden. Preston stood tall and proud next to his father. Pacifica held the same plastic smile as always. Auldman announced, “Well, Preston, it seems you found the right man for the job.” He snapped his fingers. The butler shook his hand.

           “Thank you,” Pacifica agreed.

           “That’s enough,” Auldman ordered. The butler let go and stepped back.

           “Just holding my end of the deal,” Stanford stated with a hard nod. He turned around to leave.

          Pacifica burst out, “You’re leaving already?”

          Stanford turned around. “Yeah.”

           “You’re at the world’s greatest party.” Pacifica regained her posture. “You should stay a while and have some fun with your brother and aunt. A while longer.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got this ghost to get rid of.”

 

          Stanford walked through the outer garden, the mirror still clutched in his hand. “Weird. Is it just me or is Preston… not as hate-inducing as he was an hour ago?” The ghost laughed from the mirror. Stanford stopped walking. “What are you laughing about?”

           “You’ve been had, boy,” the ghost claimed. “You remind me of me a hundred and fifty years ago.”

           “What do you mean?”

          The ghost began his tale. “One hundred and fifty years ago this day, the Northwests asked us lumber-folk to build them a mansion atop the hill. We were told t’would be a service to the town, that once a year they would throw a grand party, and all would share in the bounty. It took years of backbreaking labor and sacrifice, but when it was time for the ground party the promise the common folk of the town, they refused to let us in.”

          _The lumber-folk lined up before the gates of the Northwest Mansion, newly built and furnished under the work of so many. But as the lumberjack in lead came to enter, the rulers of the mansion laughed in his face and shut the gate. Thunder crackled and light struck the clouds overhead. Disheartened, the other laborers slunk away. Rain poured from the heavens. Soaked, cold, and furious, the lumberjack snarled and pounded the gates with his massive fists. “NORTHWEST! YOU PROMISED!”_

           “With the trees gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm!”

          _Mud and brush sloshed and slid down the hill. With a gasp, he tried to run. He was swept off his feet and smothered in the robust mudslide. The lumberjack came up for air and clung to a large rock holding fast against the moving earth. He coughed and looked up. Rain streaked mud down his worn face and graying hair. His ax, once a tool used in his trade, bounced off a log and slung toward him. His eyes grew round as he gazed upon his own death._

           “And so I said with final breath…”

          _The lumberjack held up a shaking hand and cried as loud as he could, “One-fifty years I’ll return from death, and if the gate’s still closed to town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!”_

          _In the house above, the ruler of the mansion stared down at the dying man, his final words ringing through his ears. The man plucked a quill off the table and scribbled down the cursed words._

           “A curse passed down until this day.”

          Stanford’s eyebrows knitted together. “Wait. So, the Northwests _knew_ this was coming? Then they had the nerve to hire me to avoid justice?” He glared back at the gate. “I’ll be right back.”

 

          Auldman stood before the mayor, wife at his side. “Thank you so much for coming, Mayor. As a sign of our respect, please take this chimp servant.” He held up a chimp in a suit and tie. “Keep him away from bright lights. He gets grabby.”

          The doors swung open. “NORTHWESTS!” Stanford cried and stalked inside. “You have some explaining to do!”

          Preston popped in from another room. “Stanford! You came back?” A well-groomed fox with a fancy collar trailed in Preston’s shadow. “HUNTER” stamped on his tag.

          Stanford pointed at Preston. “You lied to me! All of you did! All you had to do was let the townsfolk into the party and you could’ve broken the curse!” He stuck his hands by his sides. “But you made me do _your_ dirty work instead.”

          Auldman, a grim look replacing his false cheer, held out his cup. A person came by with a plate and took it. Auldman stalked forward and leaned down so that they were nose-to-nose. Stanford stood his ground, visibly unfazed. Though, his heart _was_ beating a bit fast. “Look at who you are talking to, _boy._ I’m hosting a party for the most powerful people in the world. You think they’d come here if they had to rub elbows with _your_ kind?” He stood up straight.

           “My kind?” Stanford echoed. He glared at Preston. “I was right. You really are just like your parents. Another link in the world’s worst chain.” Pacifica’s smile fell and she winced at the words.

          Preston smirked and held his hands behind his back. “Enjoy the party while you can, Stanford. Because this is the last time any of you will ever see it.”

 

          Outside, the rain had stopped, though the frothing, thundering clouds stayed overhead. Stanford knelt by a rather large tree stump with the silver mirror on it. The silver mirror, next to an empty vial, was propped up by a stick. Tall, burning candles lined around it. He held open the journal. He grumbled, “Stupid Northwests. Making me do their exorcism for them.” Stanford held up a hand and drawled, “Exodus demonus, spookus scarus, aintafraidus nogustus–”

           “Stanford, Stanford!” The ghost called, his hands pressed against the glass. “Please let me get my vengeance on the Northwests! You hate them as much as I.”

          Stanford sighed. “I understand. But my brother is in there and you’re unstable.”

          The ghost’s features softened. “Very well, boy.” He set one hand on the glass and turned away so that most of his body was cloaked in shadow. “Then… before you banish my soul, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the trees one final time?” He turned his head so that his single working eye glowed and his mane of fire crackled quietly around him.

          Stanford nodded and took the mirror. “Okay.” He held it up so that the mirror faced the trees.

          The ghost cackled and turned red. He pounded on the glass, his laugh heightening in pitch and volume as he heard Stanford’s scream of pain. The red-hot silver mirror fell from his hand and shattered upon one of the roots of the tree stump. Smoke unfurled from the shattered object and reformed into the lumberjack ghost. “VENGEANCE!” With a roar of victory, he swooped and flew back to the mansion. The candles went out and Stanford was flattened to the soft, grassy ground. Rain spattered the still soft ground.

          Stanford hopped to his feet. “Stanley!”

 

          Stanley, Fiddleford at his side, strolled over to where Maria stood at the edge of the crowd. A cup just filled with a drink was clutched in her hands. “So, heya, Miss.”

          Maria turned around to look at the boys. She smiled. “Oh, hello! I saw you near the entrance, yeah?”

          Stanley nodded. “Probably. We meet a lot of people, right?”

          Fiddleford hesitated and then eyes went round. “Uh-uh, yeah. Yeah.”

          Stanley laughed, “You’re hilarious. Anyway, so, you’re from Australia, right? You keep kangaroos as pets or somethin’?”

           “Austria!” Fiddleford hissed under his breath. “She’s from Austria!”

           “Yeah?” Stanley agreed.

           “I’m from Austria,” Maria agreed, a slight laugh caught in her voice. She tipped her head to look at Fiddleford, who was standing by Stanley. He straightened himself out upon realizing she was looking at him. “And you two are from here, right?”

          Stanley leveled his hand. “Kinda. I’m from New Jersey. Which is, like, across the country. He’s from around here. I’m here for the summer.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, Ah moved here when Ah was little from the South.”

          Stanley grinned and continued talking, “So, this party, right? You go to a lot of ’em?”

          Maria nodded. “The Northwest family holds a party here every year. There are other soirees I go to in Austria and sometimes other countries.”

           “Parties,” Fiddleford breathed, almost too low for Maria to hear. “Soiree is a party.”

           “I knew that,” Stanley lied in just as quiet a voice. “Dude. I couldn’t imagine going to so many parties. Hah. Yeah. Uh, yeah. So, you, like, inherited a fortune or whatever? You’re, uh, too young to be a famous scientist or whatever, right?”

          Maria nodded. “I inherited it.” For the slightest moment, her smile grew wider. She smothered it and returned to the polite smile she’d been holding so far. “So, I’m guessing you’ve been to plenty of parties, too.”

           “Oh, totally,” Stanley answered. “Like, all the time.”

           “Really? Oh, where? Who’d you meet?”

           “Where’d I meet? Or, uh, who? Heh. Well, that’s a long story.” Stanley grinned. “Yeah, uh. No one special, really. Just school things. I-I mean, really big school things.”

          Maria shook her head. “You’re a funny guy… so, what’s your name?” She turned her attention to Fiddleford.

           “Uh, my name? F-Fiddleford.” Fiddleford stood up straight. “Fiddleford McGucket. Nothin’ real special about me. Ah’m jus’- ahem. I’m just here with Stanley and Mrs. Pines and Mrs. Chiu.”

           “Oh, who are they?”

           “Mrs. Pines is Stanley’s great aunt and my employer,” Fiddleford explained, a small smile coming to him. “Mrs. Chiu is my friend and sorta mentor. She’s been teachin’ me bits about robotics for a while.”

           “Yep. We’re friends and he works for my great aunt,” Stanley agreed and hooked an arm around Fiddleford.

           “Robotics, huh?” Maria prompted and then looked back at Stanley. “What did you say you did?”

          Stanley shrugged. “My brother and I are monster hunters, soon to be treasure hunters. No big deal.”

           “I’m with them,” Fiddleford agreed, a bit forcefully.

           “Well, yeah. I know that,” Stanley agreed. “But I was just talking about Stanford.”

           “Who’s exorcising a ghost right now,” Fiddleford agreed.

          Stanley let go and turned on Fiddleford. “But we’re here. I know he’s on some big important missions, but we’re not right now and he’s not here.”

           “Which is why you’re talkin’ about him,” Fiddleford agreed. “’Cause you can’t talk about him to his face.” As they argued, Maria slipped away.

          _Ting, ting, ting!_

          Auldman stood at the top of the staircase, a small spoon in his hand. He tapped a wine glass that stood on a pyramid of wine glasses, all filled with sparkling orange-brown drink. Behind him, barrels of apple cider were pushed to the wall. The party shifted their attention to him. “Thank all of you for coming! I think we can say this party was a rousing success!”

          The basketball player near the front nodded. “I guess you could say it was a slam dunk, Auldo.” He threw his hands in front of him as if tossing a basketball.

           “Yes, yes, I guess, sure.” Auldman put back on exuberant smile and plucked a wine glass from the top of the pyramid. “A toast! To our family na-” He jumped as the glass shattered and spilled cider and glass over his hands. “ _What?_ ”

          The guests gasped as all of the glasses they held exploded. The fireplace behind Auldman crackled. He spun around and took a few steps back as the fireplace exploded, sending flames and blistering heat over the crowd. The ghost’s deep, haunting laughter rang out, coming from no particular direction and yet from them all at the same time. Auldman ran down to the base as the ghost emerged from the flames.

          The lumberjack ghost laughed and cried, “Generations locked away, my revenge shall have its day!” He twirled his hands and closed his fists. Electricity crackled and followed his movements until his balled hands were alive with crackling energy. He pointed to the nearest person. Lightning arched from him to the Mayor.

           “Ah, the grim reaper! I’d been wondering when you would arri- ah!” The Mayor halted all speech as he, and his wheelchair, was turned to petrified wood. He fell on his side. The guests screamed and scattered.

          The ghost, his grin wider than ever, struck random people. People turned to wood, their faces contorted into expressions of terror and mouths open in their permanent screams. Outside of the ghost’s direct control, the taxidermy beasts roared to life and chased away anyone that got near.

          Preston ran up to his father, eyes wide as moons and mouth agape. “Dad! What are we going to do?!”

          Auldman’s eyes narrowed. “Prepare the panic room.” A gray squirrel hopped onto Auldman’s shoulder. He punched it off.

          Stanford threw open the front doors, gasping and wheezing and coughing as water dribbled down his face and into his throat. Light was smothered in the downpour so that the only light outside came from the violent flashes of electricity. He looked around, mouth agape in astonishment and horror as he gazed upon the scene before him. Undead animals of all types and all shapes, as some were cut off in the middle and others in the feet and some just busts, terrorized the remaining people while other people were turned to wood.

          A terrified guest, having tripped and now lay on his belly, reached for Stanford. His legs had turned to wood and the magic was creeping up on him. “Help me!” he wheezed. His last breath ended in a cut-off cry.

          Stanford jumped back. “Oh my God that is _messed up!_ ”

          The ghost floated above the chaos, his back turned to the door, his hands alight in flame. “Just one way to change your fates: a Northwest must open the party gates!” he yelled above the clamor, his booming voice and thunderous laugh easily overwhelming the raucous party.

           “A Northwest?” Stanford echoed. “But who…?” Preston was definitely not going to help. There was no way he was getting his precious shoes dirty helping people and no way Auldman would open the gates if he was dying- which he technically was. That leaves… “Pacifica!” He looked around. Down the hall, just past the room with the ornate carpet, was the torn painting. A light flickered on and off within.

          Stanford raced into the room, huffing. He found her huddled up against a painting. Her watery eyes shut and she mindlessly flicked a flashlight on and off. Stanford crept up to her side. “Pacifica?”

          The woman jumped so hard she dropped the flashlight. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at the source of the noise. Once she’d deducted that her name had been called by the boy hired to exorcise the ghost, she relaxed. “Hey, Stanford. What are you doing over here?”

           “The ghost is turning everyone to wood and started rhyming and… what are you doing here? Did you know about this place?”

          Pacifica picked up the flashlight and shook her head. “No one, not my parents and not even Auldman, told me this pace existed. I only found out because the painting had been torn open.” She looked up and shined her flashlight. “All the painted records of my family’s bad deeds. Then there’s me.” She flashed the light in her face before turning it off and letting it fall.

          Stanford hesitated and shook his head. “Well, come on. He needs a Northwest to open the gates-” he started and took her hand.

          Pacifica slipped her hand out of his grasp. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

           “What? Why not?”

           “Because Auldman… you wouldn’t understand.” She sighed and shook her head. She wiped her eyes. “You should go home. If that ghost is terrorizing everyone… I don’t want you here, kid. You tried your best.”

          Stanford sat down. “Why wouldn’t I?”

           “It’s just… between me and Auldman. I’m sorry if Preston said anything mean to you. He doesn’t mean it.” Her words turned into a half-hearted mumble.

          _What the hell was that about?_

          Stanford could hear his father’s hiss in his ears.

          _I was just telling him that he can express himself however he wants._

          Stanley’s fingers tangled into his. He could hear his sharp breaths against his cheek as the two huddled in a closet.

          _He’s a boy, not some cookie-baking girl! STANLEY! Get down here!_

          _He’s still a kid! Please. Let him be a kid._

          Stanford looked down at his feet and then back up at Pacifica. Fresh tears replaced the old in her eyes. “I think I do.”

          Pacifica looked down at him. “What do you mean?”

           “You want Preston to be a good kid,” Stanford explained. “But Auldman won’t let him.”

          Her sullen expression turned to shock and guarded curiosity. “Wh-where’d you hear that?”

          Stanford set his gaze. “Because you’re not another link in the world’s worst chain. Preston doesn’t have to be, either. It’s not too late to make things right.”

          Then, Pacifica smiled. It wasn’t the plastic smile she wore around Auldman. It wasn’t the one that didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t stare at the scene before her with blank, hopeless eyes. Despite the tears that streaked down her cheeks, she looked more alive and happier than Stanford had ever seen her. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “You’re a special boy, Stanford Pines. You, your brother, your great aunt- the Pines are a _wonderful_ family.”

           “It’s too late!” the scream made the two jump, let go, and look to the entrance.

           “Oh no!” Stanford gasped and raced into the main hall. Pacifica nearly tripped over her vibrant purple dress following him. The two stopped just inside of the main hall and screamed. Vines crept up the walls. Grass and brush occupied the ground. Leaves and blades popped out of everything. The main hall itself was turned into wood, as were all of the guests. Trees sprouted everywhere.

           “You are all wood!” the ghost exclaimed.

          Stanford’s gaze fell on Stanley and Fiddleford. Stanley’s hands were on his hips and Fiddleford crossed his arms with a heavy look of skepticism on his features. The ghost of vengeance floated before the fireplace, arms behind his back. Stanford set his gaze and ran toward the ghost. He hardly heard Pacifica yell, “STANFORD! WAIT!”

          Stanford, journal under one arm, hopped onto the table and held up a silver platter. “Alright, ghost, prepare to- agk!” A beam of blue energy shot the journal out of his grasp. He dropped the silver platter and turned to take the journal. The ghost shot another burst of energy at him. Stanford tried to lift his feet up to run, but found that they couldn’t. They couldn’t move, he couldn’t even feel them! Stanford looked down. His feet, ankles, and calves turned to wood. The petrifying enchantment crept up, eagerly turning every cell of flesh, bone, and every fiber of clothes to wood. Stanford struggled and screamed. “NO! No, no, no! Someone help! HELP!” He raised his arms above him. His high-pitched scream was cut off as he turned to pine. If it wasn’t so terrifying, he might have found it ironic.

          Pacifica, huddled behind a curtain, gasped. Nearby, a grandfather clock rang as it struck midnight.

          The ghost howled and rose up. “A forest of death, a lesson learned, and now the Northwest Manor will burn!” He cackled and threw up his hands. The fireplace roared and burst up. Fire consumed the family painting and the ornaments over the fireplace. He laughed and watched as the painting wrinkled and burned.

           “HEY, UGLY!”

          The ghost was snapped out of his joy as the last living soul called to him. He turned around. Pacifica stood at the front doors, hand on her hips and feet planted firmly in the ground. She glared at the ghost with the intensity of a tigress facing a threat to her cubs.

           “You wish to prove yourself?” the ghost prompted, his glare equally as terrifying. He pointed to the “MAIN GATE” lever. “Pull that lever and open the grand gate to the town!” He turned so that he fully faced the doors and held out his arms by his sides. “Fulfill your ancestors’ promise!”

          Pacifica, not taking her eyes off the ghost, reached up toward the lever.

          The panic room hatch popped open with Auldman, Preston, and the butler peeking out from under it. Auldman barked, “Pacifica Elise Northwest! Stop this instant! We can’t let the town see us like this! We have a reputation to uphold! Now come into the panic room. There’s enough mini-sandwiches and oxygen to last you, me, and a butler a full week.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “We’ll eat the butler!”

          Pacifica’s gaze fell on the frozen form of Stanford Pines. She reached for the lever again.

          Auldman took out the little golden bell he’d been holding and rang it. Pacifica froze and gritted her teeth. Her hand shook, just inches away from the lever. “You dare disobey us?” Auldman stated, his eyes narrowed. “Is this bell broken?!”

          Pacifica stamped her foot and set her gaze. “This family name is broken! And I’m gunna fix it.” She caught the lever in a death grip and tore down. Preston’s eyes went round in shock. Auldman dropped the useless instrument of control he’d been holding. The ghost gasped, his glare lost.

          The townsfolk of Gravity Falls stared at the gate as it opened, eyes round and mouths open as if an angel had just descended and announced heaven’s gates to be open for mortals. Tyler whispered, “Git it! Git it!” The crowd roared in approval and stormed the gates.

          The ghost watched the outside through a window with a glee no one could think the ghost could hold. “Yes! YES! It’s HAPPENING! My heart, once hard as oak, now grows soft like more of a… birch, or something.”

          The guests and the manor itself unfroze and returned to its normal self, for the most part. Party dishes were still broken and taxidermy animals, though no longer alive, littered the place. The guests relaxed and looked around in a daze. Stanford gasped and put a hand to his throat. He looked back. The ghost now hovered before their savior.

           “Pacifica,” the ghost announced. “You are not like the other Northwests. I feel… lumber justice.” His eyes closed, a grand smile upon his features. His fire calmed to a merry flame and he dissolved until finally, his bare bones vanished and he was gone. The ax in his head fell and sank into the ground, shining and pristine. Pacifica smiled.

          The ground rumbled and the front doors burst open. The people of Gravity Falls ran inside, howling their glee. The place was soon very alive with a merriness and wildness none of the invited wealthy people had dared to feel. Auldman stumbled about the place, eyes wide and movements choppy. He muttered and gasped the absurdity, the nightmare, he now lived.

          Gompers bleated and bounced about Stanford’s feet. Pacifica got down on one knee and took her terrified son in her arms. Stanley stood up, as he’d fallen down, and shook his head. “What the…? What just happened?”

          Fiddleford looked about. “I reckon we got turned to wood.”

           “Pfft. That’s crazy.”

           “This entire town is crazy.”

           “True, true.” Stanley looked about. “Aw, she’s probably gone.”

           “Ah’d be, too,” Fiddleford agreed.

          Stanley sighed. “Okay, yeah, I get it. Sorry for pushing you down, I guess.”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “You’re a funny guy, Lee.”

           “You wanna go see if Ford got turned into a tree?” Stanley suggested.

          Fiddleford smirked. “Yeah, sure.”

           “Wait!” The two boys turned around. Maria walked down the stairs to meet them. “Don’t go! Fiddleford, was it? I must speak with you.” She put a hand on the back of her neck, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. “I can’t get you out of my head. You’re so bold and confident. I know you are probably out of my league, but, might I give you mein phone number?” She looked up at him with a shy smile.

          Fiddleford raised his eyebrows. “Uh, what now? Uh… Ah… heh.” He smiled, unable to help to own pinkness that brushed his cheeks. “Ah, uh… thanks but Ah’m not actually lookin’ for a girlfriend. Ah already got someone in mind.”

           “Lucky girl,” Maria chuckled, shifting her feet. “Um… well… enjoy the, uh, rest of the party. Ahem.” She turned and walked off.

          Pacifica, Preston’s hand in hers, stopped in front of Stanford. “Hey, Ford.”

          Stanford grinned. “If you’re family hates you for this, they’re idiots.”

           “Yeah, well…” Pacifica smiled. “You better be here next time. These gates are staying open.”

          Preston looked up at her and then ahead, eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face. He didn’t even look at Stanford or, rather, anything. It’s like he wasn’t even there.

           “Well, I better help Preston to bed. This has been a nightmare. You enjoy the rest of the party, Ford. You deserve it.” With that, she led her son up the steps and out of sight.

          Mrs. Chiu hobbled up to him. “Woo! Hahaha!”

           “Mrs. Chiu! Nice to meet you!” Stanford grinned and then gasped as she took him by the wrist and ran off. He stumbled to a stop around a corner, just out of sight of the party.

          Mrs. Chiu stopped and, after checking around the corner, faced him. She popped on her glasses. “Ford! I’ve been lookin’ for you! I fixed the laptop. I been doing calculations and- and I think something _terrible_ is happening! The apocalypse! The End Times!”

          Stanford sighed. “Hey, you know what, Mrs. Chiu? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow. It’s a party. Let’s have fun for once.” He walked past her, back to the party, smiling.

           “But-” she started. He was gone. She knelt and took out her laptop. The screen blazed in red. “IMMINENT THREAT” was surrounded by a red box. A countdown ticked under it. “21:30:08” counted down. Mrs. Chiu shook her head. “Oh, this is bad! Really bad! Something’s coming.”

 

ALANM **J** NS CBP DGTX CREU YC NDVXYB DKCROUTIU JS FOLFE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stanford's a Ghost Buster now, I guess! Also, I'm sure Dipper and Stanford had very different reasons. Dipper? Wanted to get his sister into the party, most likely. Maybe show off. Becoming friends with Pacifica was just a side bonus. Stanford? Wanted to show off and meet another ghost. _vigenère_ Admitting his family and friends was just a side bonus.  
>  Preston is a rude person and I planned this from the start. Pacifica is the only Northwest who hasn't gone rotten. But maybe... maybe with love and a lot of work, Preston can be turned around. After all, it _lumberjack_ was their married-into-the-family father that made Preston who he was.  
>  Fun facts:  
> -Preston had a fox named Hunter as a kid when Stanford still lived in Gravity Falls.  
> -The lumberjack is (most likely) a Corduroy.  
> -I continuously said "wtf" while writing that ghost introduction scene. Seriously, I haven't freaked myself out with my writing that much since Weirdmaggedon, which I wrote first? Haha whoops  
> -"I traveled to Northwest Manor to confront Old Man Northwest with this evidence of his family's deceit, but instead was met by his snotty son, Preston, and his pet fox, 'Hunter'. ... The boy was unmoved until I offhandedly mentioned the Great Flood of 1863. He was so panicked about what I said that he had me forcibly escorted from the premises." ~Journal 3. August 3rd.  
> -"I followed the flood path back from Northwest Manor toward my own house and made a gruesome discovery. Countless lumber folk died in the Flood of '63, and all of them were under the Northwests' employment." ~Journal 3, The Great Secret of the Great Flood


	8. Not What She Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids finally have a break after pacifying the Ghost of Vengeance and freeing Pacifica. Now it's time be be kids on a Saturday Afternoon. All is at peace... right?

          Night quieted most of the life in Gravity Falls. The brightest lights belonged to the dull, flickering street lamps that cast a haunting glow over the concrete and cement under them. The dullest lights lit up windows inside of the multitude of houses. Then, a blue light pulsed in the outskirts of town. The light dulled and then flashed again and then dulled again. Within the Mystery Shack, bright lights glowed from behind the vending machine.

          Within the basement, Mabel buzzed about the lab. She didn’t wear a sweater or skirt. A pink tank top and long pants as well as bright, thick orange gloves dressed her. She grabbed a lever and pushed it forward so that it went from its spot by a red line, past a multitude of red lines turning into green ones, and then stopping at the very top notch. Nearby, tanks of bubbling liquid filled up with more of the sickly green, translucent material. Toxic green fought with blue as the dominant light source of the control room.

           “Come on, come on,” Grauntie Mabel groaned as she watched the tanks fill. “Should be just enough to finish it off.” Once the tanks were full of bubbling toxic liquid, she sighed and let go of the lever. “Whew. Can’t be too careful, huh?”

          The large red warning lights on the top of the tanks blazed on and off. Grauntie Mabel grinned and looked back. On a long screen above the window, the green letters “EVENT INITIALIZED” glowed. It quickly changed to the red numbers “18:00:00” and immediately counted down.

          Grauntie Mabel sat down and flipped through journal one. She flipped through the pages until she got to the one she wanted. “WARNING!” the red letters glared from the top of the page. “EXTREME USAGE NOT RECOMMENDED” Underneath of that stated in slightly smaller letters “-COULD RESULT IN MINOR GRAVITY ANOMOLIES”. The black words: “ANOMALY HOTSPOTS” was above a layout of the town. Blue circles of varying sizes covered the map. All of them had two smaller blue rings within them.

           “‘Warning’, yada, yada, yada… ‘Extreme usage could result in minor gravity anomalies’. Well, warnings, prepare to be ignored!” She shut the journal. “I’ve come this far, I’m _not_ giving up now.” She flipped open a small panel on the desk. A large red button was now bared. She slammed her hand onto it.

          The reaction was immediate.

          The glowing runes around the portal intensified. The colored glow swirled until it was a rainbow ring of light. Two large circles of light on the ground and on the ceiling glared and shone down or up at each other so that two tubs of light flanked the portal. The glowing center of the portal shifted and then rippled. Bits of the infinite universe appeared behind the ripples like a pond under a glaring light.

           “Yes, this is it!” Grauntie Mabel breathed, her eyes going round and reflecting the rainbow. So absorbed in the portal was she that she didn’t notice her hot pink, shooting star fez lift off her head. Outside, the world felt the repercussions. Rocks floated up. Outside, Waddles oinked and floated up a few inches off the ground. A boat rose out of the lake. Junk cars and broken objects floated in the junkyard. Mrs. Chiu, peacefully asleep, didn’t notice her repaired laptop floating or beeping. On the screen, two green squares of text flanked the very basic outline of the portal and the two green circles on either side. The laptop faced away from Mrs. Chiu. The green turned to red and ‘ACTIVE’ appeared below the portal. Within the boys’ room, Stanford, Stanley, and Gompers peacefully slept. All three rose a few inches in the air along with a few choice belongings. They didn’t wake. Then, the anomaly quieted and everything returned to its former position.

          Grauntie Mabel stood up. She watched as the specs of universe in the portal faded away, replaced by the intense, blue-white glow of the restarted portal. “It’s gunna be a bumpy ride,” she said to herself as she picked up a watch. “But it will all be worth it.” She held up the watch so that she could look at the screen with the time on it. She pressed a few buttons. Then, the watch mirrored the time on the screen. “Just eighteen more hours. Finally. Today, everything changes.”

 

          The morning light, early by some standards but still very bright and alive, cast everything in a glow. Stanley raced down a hall, laughing like a maniac. Stanford trudged after him. Stanley laughed, “It’s here! It’s over here! Here! Here!” Stanford sighed and rubbed is eyes.

          Stanley stopped by a door and spun around. “Okay, so, I was just openin’ random doors, when I found something totally _amazing!”_

          Stanford blinked and shook his head. “If it was worth waking up at seven a.m., it _will_ be amazing.”

          Stanley grabbed the door handle and opened it. Within a closet was a giant box labeled “DO NOT TOUCH” overflowing with fireworks filled with serious firepower. Names like “COP CALLER” and “LAWSUIT MAKER” dressed many of them. “Feast your eyes, doubtful brother!”

           “Whoa!” Stanford snapped out of his drowsy trance.

          Stanley put a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. We’re _both_ thinkin’ it.”

          Stanford grinned. The twins announced, their voices so close together they might as well have been one, “Crazy rooftop fireworks party!”

          Grauntie Mabel marched up to them, a serious look on her face. She wore the same garb she’d had downstairs, though now she sported a bath robe and lost the orange gloves. The boys stopped smiling. “Ah-ah! Not so fast! There is no way that I am going to let you set off those very dangerous, illegal fireworks…” She grinned and bent down. “Without me.”

 

          On the roof, Grauntie Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley stood with a cooler full of icy pops and a box full of illegal fireworks. Stanford, holding a sparkler in one hand, plucked an icy pop out of the freezer. Grauntie Mabel, sans bathrobe, sat on the chair on the roof with a lit sparkler and a Roman candle. She handed Stanford a skyrocket and a sparkler. “Here ya go, Lee. Set something on fire for me, would ya?”

          Stanley, howled and held up the firework. “I am the absolute GOD of Destruction!” he cried. The firework rocketed away and, leaving a spiral trail of glittering smoke, went off above the trees and yard.

          Grauntie Mabel lifted Stanley onto her shoulders, the two of them laughing all the while. They stopped laughing as Deputy Durland and Sherriff Blubbs approached them. Sherriff Blubbs called, “Hold on a minute. Do you have a permit for those?”

          Stanford shifted his weight, the sparkler still going off in his hand. “Uh…”

          Stanley called back, “Do you have a permit for being totally lame?” The three laughed.

          Sheriff Blubbs shook his head with an amused chuckle. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” He and his partner turned and walked off. “Have a nice day, now!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and sighed. “Alright, but seriously, you two. We should clean this mess up.” Around the yard, small fires popped up. A flag rope burned and snapped in half.

          Stanley looked about. “With… water balloons?”

          Grauntie Mabel looked up at him. “You know, I don’t see why not.”

          The boys cheered and held up their dead sparklers.

 

          Grauntie Mabel, now out of her night clothes and in her baby blue suit, sat back in her seat with a can of Pitt Cola. She watched the two boys run around the yard, armed with water balloons and icy pops. Stanford ducked out of the way of a water balloon, laughing and hopping from puddle to puddle. He turned around and threw the water balloon in his hand. He mustn’t have thrown it well as it went about a foot or so and landed on the ground without breaking. Stanford clicked his tongue. “Aw! What?” He gasped as a water balloon hit him square in the face.

          Stanley ran after him, a water balloon in one hand and a half finished icy pop in the other, howling all the while.

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and took a sip of her soda. “Aw, Saturdays. For doing dumb things forever!”

          The boys, now interlocking their arms, chanted, “ _Dumb things forever!_ ” They jumped and landed in a pile of water balloons. Grauntie Mabel lifted her foot and laughed as water nearly splashed on her.

          Stanley held up his icy pop. “To Grauntie Mabel! Not just our great aunt…”

           “But the greatest aunt!” Stanford finished. The two launched their water balloons at Grauntie Mabel. She gasped and then jumped up. “Why you little!” she growled in a mock angry voice and picked up the hose. The already soaked boys screamed and fled as she put her thumb on the spout and directed the rushed stream at them. Both boys held water balloons. When Grauntie Mabel turned her attention on one boy, the other would launch a balloon at her. “Cheaters!” she accused. “Two against one!”

           “But you’re older!” Stanford pointed out and then ran away as the water was directed at him.

          Stanley chucked a water balloon at her shoulder. “And we’re already a team!”

          Finally, after the boys ran out of ammo, Grauntie Mabel dropped the hose and turned off the water. “You two are crazy!”

           “You’re crazy!” Stanley retaliated.

          Grauntie Mabel picked up her soda. It was empty. “Just by lookin’ at you I’d swear you’d never had a fierce water war.”

          Stanford shrugged. “Not really.”

          Grauntie Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Really? Well… that needs to change, doesn’t it?”

          Stanley waved his hand. “Pssh. We have plenty of summer left to knock you down.”

           “Heh. Plenty of summer left,” Grauntie Mabel agreed, though her voice was a bit quieter. She sighed. “Okay, look. Kids, I should tell you something. It’s… um…” She rubbed the back of her neck. Stanley and Stanford lost their smiles. Grauntie Mabel looked at Stanford. His head was cocked and eyes round like a confused owl. Normally, the look on his face would make her laugh. “It’s complicated. I… I’m going to refresh my drink.” Grauntie Mabel turned and walked around the other side of the Mystery Shack. Nearby trees cast a heavy shadow over her. “Enjoy it while you can, Mabel. There’s only so much time left. They’ll find out sooner or later.” She stood near the window. “It ends today.” A red light glowed on the center of her fez. “Huh?” She set her hand on her fez. The light glowed on the back of her hand. “What…? Oh no.” Dozens of dots appeared over her chest and head. Then, a young man in uniform knocked her over and pinned her. “AGK! HEY!”

          Agent Trigger approached from behind her. He pulled up a walkie-talkie. “Target secure! Take the house!” Helicopters flew overhead and came to a hover above the house.

          Stanley and Stanford backed into each other and looked about as half a dozen agents surrounded them. One spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Kids are secure. Roof team! Go!” Above them, several agents rappelled out. They broke in through windows and doors. Shattered glass blanketed the wooden floors and carpets and rugs. Doors opened with resounding _crack_ ’s. Each yelled “CLEAR!” as they secured a room. Another agent burst through the boys’ room and tackled Gompers, who bleated in terror. “Goat secure! We have secured a goat!”

          Several more agents surrounded the Mystery Shack in yellow police tape. Many government vehicles parked outside. An agent led Grauntie Mabel to one of the cars, her hands behind her back in cuffs. “Urg-! Hey! Hands off!” she wheezed and then grunted as the agent planted her face onto the truck of one of the cars. Her soaked hair splattered water over the hot black metal. “I don’t understand!” she tried. “What did I do wrong?! Wrong enough to warrant _this_ much arresting?!”

          Stanley and Stanford crept up to where their great aunt had been detained. Agent Trigger and Agent Powers approached them. Stanford gasped, “The government guys! I thought you were eaten by zombies!”

           “We survived. Barely,” Agent Trigger stated in a tight voice.

          Agent Powers said, “I used Trigger as a human shield. He cried like a baby.” He approached their great aunt.

           “What? Hey! Not in front of the Special OPs guys,” Agent Trigger groaned and followed him.

          Agent Powers held up a tablet for Grauntie Mabel, who was now standing up with her hands still held behind her back, to see. “This is security footage of a government waste facility.” The screen showed a room in black and white filled with barrels. A person in a radiation suit walked in with a dolly and stole barrels of waste. “At o’four hundred hours last night, someone robbed three hundred gallons of dangerous waste.”

           “ _What?_ You think that’s me?” Grauntie Mabel looked up at him.

          Agent Powers put away the tablet. “Don’t play dumb with us, Pines.”

           “But I _am_ dumb!” Grauntie Mabel pointed out and sucked in her breath as she was led away. “Last night I was stocking the gift shop! I swear!”

           “Wait!” Stanley cried and took a few steps forward. “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

          Stanford nodded. “Our great aunt might glitter-fy the occasional statue, but she’d never stand for theft. She’s no master criminal!”

          Agent Powers got down on one knee so that he was eye level with the twins. “Listen, kid. We’ve been watching your family all summer and we’ve seen some disturbing things. But _nothing_ as dangerous as what your aunt is hiding. Somewhere hidden in this shack is a doomsday device!” He stood up.

          The twins, mouths gaping and eyes wide, looked at each other. _Grauntie Mabel? Doomsday device? Her? What?_

          Agent Powers turned to Agent Trigger and handed him the tablet. “Trigger, you take the children. I’ll talk to the old woman.” He looked down at the boys. “Sorry to break it to you kids,” He put on a pair of sunglasses. “-but you don’t know your aunt at all.”

           “Hey, no!” Stanley glared at them. “You can’t say that! Hey!” He stumbled forward as a hand was placed on his back and he was scooted forward. As Trigger walked to his car, an agent shooed the twins away from their great aunt.

          The agent shut the door as they were forced to climb inside of the tan and green-gray police vehicle. They looked out the window at their great aunt, who was loaded into the back seat of an armored government truck. Their eyes met. Grauntie Mabel hit the window with her hand-cuffed hands. “Kids, you have to believe me! I’m actually innocent! KIDS!” she yelled as the car drove off. The kids howled as their car started off down the road.

          Outside, Dan strolled to the Mystery Shack, humming a tune. “Headin’ to work, doo-de-doo.”

           “Ground team! Move, move, move!” one agent yelled.

           “Break down the door!” another agreed, which led to a few agents breaking down the front door.

          Dan took a one eighty and walked away. “Or maybe not.”

 

          In the Gravity Falls police station, they took various mug shots of Grauntie Mabel. They took her finger prints. They set her in an interrogation room and handcuffed her hands behind the chair she sat in. Behind her was a billboard of pictures and newspaper clippings with strings all tied to a picture of her face in the center. It reminded her a lot of the ones Stanford or Fiddleford would make.

          Agent Powers stood before the opposite end of the table. “Mabel Pines, you stand accused of theft of government waste, conspiracy, and possession of illegal weapons. How do you plead to these charges?”

          Mabel stammered for a few seconds before shaking her head. “I-Inno-uilty. Er- Innocent! I- Uh, can I have that phone call now?”

 

          Fiddleford sat behind a tree just out of earshot of the Mystery Shack. He shut his eyes and fumbled with the Cubic’s Cube in his hand. He could still see Stanley and Stanford forced into the back of a police car, screaming and yelling. Or Mrs. Pines being detained and roughly forced into the back of a government vehicle. He’d seen arrests before. Like when Stanley got caught stealing a few chocolate bars and was escorted to the county jail to be picked up. Or when a teen had been caught vandalizing something and was picked up. But he’d never seen such an arrest. He shuttered and held the now completed Cubic’s Cube tight to his chest.

          _Chhhhhhh! “Fiddleford!”_

          Fiddleford jumped and looked down. His walkie-talkie was still stuck in his backpack. He immediately fumbled with the backpack. He stuck his hand in the wrong pouch and ended up touching a lightbulb. He let go and found the right packet. “Mrs. Pines? What happened?! Ah hear ya got arrested an’- an’–”

          _“Listen, Fiddleford,”_ Mrs. Pines cut him off. _“I need something from you. You know that vending machine in the gift shop? I need you to guard it with your life. No matter_ what _happens, no matter who talks to you, do not let them touch that machine. Not even Stanley and Stanford.”_

           “N-not even Lee and Ford?” Fiddleford squeaked.

          _“Not even Lee and Ford. Fiddleford, please! Do this for me!” Chhhhhhh!_

          Fiddleford looked at the walkie-talkie, which hissed now that the other line had been cut. He put it away and zipped up the back pack. He took a deep breath and set his gaze. “I promise, Mrs. Pines, I will _not_ let you down.” He looked down at his backpack. “No matter what.”

 

          The kids were in an armored jeep now. Agent Powers appeared in a video chat just above the windshield. “We’ve got Mrs. Pines in custody. Our men are searching the Shack for the device. You take care of those kids.” The video shut off.

          Stanford gasped. “What are you going to do to us?”

          Agent Trigger stated, “We’ll be taking you to child services.”

           “Boo!” Stanley complained.

           “In the meantime-” Agent Trigger pressed a button. “-enjoy some mindless reality TV, designed to pacify you and make you stop asking questions.”

          The TV screen in front of them switched to a scene with a surgeon above a patient. _“I’m about to make the incision…”_

          A wildly dressed teen in a green hoodie spotted purple, a backwards blue and white hat, and purple jeans popped out of a potted plant in a storm of confetti. _“KER-PRANK!”_ The surgeon bristled and jumped.

          The words “KER-PRANK’D” in large, bubble letters the same color and pattern as Justin’s shirt appeared on screen. “ _You’re watching ‘KER-PRANK’D’ with Justin Kerprank!_ ”

          Stanley shook his head. “This is crazy, Ford! There’s no way Mabel is stealin’ hazardous waste.”

           “We need to clear her name,” Stanford agreed. “But how…” His gaze traveled to a security camera at the front of the car facing in. “That’s it! The security tapes! She has cameras in the shop, doesn’t she?”

           “We just need to get them!” Stanley agreed. “But we’ll need to find a way out of here. Think, Stanley…!” He looked out the car window. Before them, a logging truck driven by “Tough Girl” Wendy drove. On her bumper was an American Flag bumper sticker, a yellow awareness ribbon, and a “Sev’ral Timez” bumper sticker.

          The government vehicle turned into the next lane and steadily approached the truck’s side to pass her. Stanley bit back a smile. Once he was sure “Tough Girl” Wendy could see him, he knocked on the window and fogged his window. She glanced down at him quick enough to see him write “SEV’RAL TIMEZ IS OVERRATED”.

          She gasped and roared, “NO!” She veered her logging truck in the government vehicle and then struggled to regain her place in the road.

          Agent Trigger yelled as his car spun out of control and drove into the woods. “Mayday! Mayday! Agent down!” he screamed. No matter his training and no matter what he did, the truck barreled down the forest. The twins bounced in their seat, yelling in fright as the car was no longer safely on the road. It turned and hit a couple of trees with its side.

          Agent Trigger, pressed on all sides by pieces of broken car and the airbag, attempted to wriggle free and open the door. A hefty branch blocked him. “Darn branch!” Stanley hopped out of the car with a whoop of victory. He and Stanford ran around to the driver’s side. “Back up! Requesting backup!” Agent Trigger called into his earpiece.

          Stanford snatched his earpiece away and crushed it under his foot.

          The kids glared at the trapped agent. Stanley turned around. “Come on, Ford. We’re gunna clear our aunt’s name.”

          Agent Trigger sighed. “Oh, you poor kids. You really think your aunt’s innocent? I’ve seen it all before.” Stanley didn’t seem to give an indication he was listening while Stanford hesitated. “False names, double lives- one minute they’re playing with water balloons, the next they’re building doomsday devices. Your aunt scammed the whole world. You gunna let her scam you, too?”

           “You…” Stanford started. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sped up his walk to catch up to Stanley.

           “You’re gunna regret this!” Agent Trigger called after them.

 

          Stanley and Stanford hid in the brush on the edge of the road. Two government vehicles, armored and holding open jeep beds, passed by. Stanley and Stanford hitched a ride on the second one. They squirmed under the sheets to stay out of sight.

 

          Grauntie Mabel stayed handcuffed in the interrogation room alone. She checked her watch. “5:00:13”. “Five more hours. Grr! Think, Mabel! Think! You have to get out!” She slammed her head on the table. She gasped as the coffee cup shuttered and lifted all on its own. She looked down at her watch, which red “ANOMALY IN PROGRESS”. The liquid contents rose at a quicker rate. A few seconds later, gravity returned. The cup fell and coffee splashed into the cup and over the table. “Ha-ha! Yes! They’re getting stronger! That’s it!”

          Outside, the whole town rose up a few inches and then fell back down.

          Tyler looked about and turned to “Lazy” Susan. “Is it just me, or did the entire world just hiccup?”

           “Lazy” Susan put a hand on her hip and waved her other hand. “I’m sure it’s just a baby-sized earthquake.”

           “T’aw! Baby-sized!” Tyler cooed.

          In the junkyard, Mrs. Chiu’s laptop screen red “04:57:41” within a green square. “HRS UNTIL ACTIVATED” glowed beneath it. Mrs. Chiu scrambled about her home, packing things up she needed and hopping on her feet in a panic. “It’s happening! The End Times!” she cried. “When that machine activates- I-I need to get out of town!” She packed the last essential she needed before racing out of her shack and the junkyard.

 

          Stanley and Stanford hid in the tree line right outside the Mystery Shack, which was swarmed by agents.

           “Okay, okay,” Stanley pointed to the people in front of the door. “I’ll take out those two guys. You karate chop that one in the neck. Then we’ll backflip through the front door!”

          Stanford cleared his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting the simpler solution?”

           “Oh. Right. It’s not as much fun.”

          A crossbow bolt zipped out of the tree line and through the broken window. A wire was tied to its tail. Both boys zipped down the wire and into the room. The two darted through the attic, down the stairs, and through a hallway. All the while they were careful not to make too much noise so that the agents wouldn’t discover them.

          The two arrived in Grauntie Mabel’s overly bright office and locked the door behind them and fist-bumped. Stanford looked about. “Now, if I was Mabel, where would I hide those surveillance tapes?”

           “Would she hide them?” Stanley prompted.

          Stanford nodded. “…good point. But I don’t see them around here. She probably wouldn’t want them to get stolen.” The two took off to look through book shelves and filing cabinets.

          Stanley looked back at a Jackalope bust on the wall. A bolt was in one of its antlers, which was crooked. “Wait… the antelabbit! Look!”

           “Don’t you mean ‘jackalope’?” Stanford couldn’t help but ask as he abandoned his station and arrived by Stanley’s side.

           “Pssh. Whatever.” Stanley grabbed the crooked antler and pushed it up. Immediately, that section of the wall going down hissed and turned around to show two monitors stacked on each other with a keyboard and tape below. The twins hissed their victory. “GIFT SHOP, TUESDAY” was written on the tape most of the way in the tape player. “It’s already in here!” Stanley pushed it in. Stanford pressed a button on his remote.

          The bottom monitor hissed and the image of Dan and Fiddleford cheering on Stanley played. _“Go! Go! Go! Go!”_ they chanted as Stanley worm-slunk across the floor. “4:45:00” printed in yellow letter across the top left of the screen.

          Stanley shrugged at Stanford’s glare. “What? Someone yelled ‘Wormy Dance’. I had to. Fast-forward.”

           “6:45:00”.

          Grauntie Mabel hummed as she stocked up the items normally on the counter of the cash register.

           “Ha!” Stanford cried in victory. “She’s restocking the gift shop and the time stamp confirms it!”

           “She’s innocent!” Stanley cheered.

           “6:50:00”

          Grauntie Mabel’s gaze flicked about. She slipped out from the front door.

           “7:15:00”

          The gift shop was empty.

           “7:30:00”

          Shadows were thrown over the empty gift shop.

           “8:00:00”

          The gift shop was dark and quiet.

          Stanford bit his lip. “Uh-oh.”

          Stanley shrugged. “Maybe she, uh, went in through another door?”

           “5:00:00”.

          A person in a bright yellow radiation suit walked through the door, a barrel of toxic waste on a dolly in their hands.

          The kids gasped. Stanford groaned, “Oh, no, Mabel, you didn’t…”

           “Don’t panic!” Stanley held up his hands. “That’s the thing! We don’t know it’s her. She’s probably asleep and some maniac just broke into the store and is using her as a scape-goat! Obviously, this was a set-up.”

           “5:15:00”.

          The character dropped one of the dozens of barrels they had on their foot. A feminine yelp came in response. Grauntie Mabel held her foot. “Gah! Glittering unicorn rainbow blood! Erg.” She set her foot down. “Wait. I’m alone. I can swear for real! _Son of a–_ ”

          Stanford skipped through that next part. “That’s her alright.”

          Stanley bit his lip. “Okay, well, she stole radioactive waste. That doesn’t really _mean_ anything. I mean, it could be for anything! It doesn’t mean she’s some super-criminal, right?”

          As Stanley spoke, Stanford got down on his knees and took out a box. “Uh… Stanley?” He looked up at his brother.

          They set the box down on the desk. Stanford yanked the gold chain attached to the lamp next to them, which had a green cover on the top to shield their eyes and direct the light down. Stanley picked up the handful of fake IDs in the box. All of them had pictures that looked very similar to Mabel, but all had different names. Sometimes, different ages. “Wait… these are fake IDs! Why’d she need them? Is this one a dude?”

           “Think, Stanley. You only need fake IDs if you’re trying to hide who you are,” Stanford pointed out. He rummaged through the box and picked up various papers and a few passports.

           “But why?” Stanley set the ID’s on the desk. “Why would she need to do that? I mean, she’s a bit old in these photos wanting to buy some drinks, isn’t she? Whoa, ‘Mary Forester’? That’s a dumb name.”

          Stanford growled in frustration. All of the papers were mundane newspaper or magazine clippings. His fingers passed over the bottom of the box. He hesitated and then tapped on the bottom of the box. “This is a bit high, isn’t it…?” He crinkled the cardboard to pull it off the top. A dozen of tapes were stacked and compressed neatly together next to a stack of pink scrapbooks.

          Stanford lifted the first one up. Like Journal Three, it had a symbol on the front with a number. This one was a yellow shooting star labeled ‘3’. He set it on the table and opened it. Unlike Grauntie Mabel’s normal scrapbooks of her in often random situations along with pictures of them and her friends, this one was covered in odd creatures. Gnomes, vampire bats, flying eyeballs, the glade with gems. Oddest of all was the writing. Although some were basic descriptions in pink, scant purple words wrote over a few.

           “ _Crystals will make me bigger,_ ” wrote one passage underneath of a picture. “ _He’s taller, will be easier to mimic him if I’m taller._ ”

          Farther in, there was a picture of the Bottomless Pit. “ _Nothing comes back. Good way to dispose of evidence._ ”

          Stanford and Stanley looked through it, flipping each page. “This…” Stanford muttered. “This looks like the journal. But one Grauntie Mabel made?”

          Stanley’s eyes went round. “Do you think _she’s_ the author?”

          Stanford shook his head. “No, there’s not enough glitter on the journals. This looks like her handwriting, but what are these annotations? Is she trying to turn into somebody?”

           “A he?” Stanley agreed. He gasped and took out the fake ID. It looked like her, if masculine.

           “Look at the height!” Stanford picked up one of the other IDs and compared the height. “Grauntie Mabel can’t be that short. If she’s really standing in for that guy. _That guy._ Stanley…” His eyes met Stanley’s.

          Stanley shuffled through the papers and then picked up one. “‘Secret code to hideout?’”

           “A1, B, C3?” Stanford opened the journal and flipped to the page about ciphers. “This doesn’t look like any of these codes…”

           “No. It’s the vending machine,” Stanley stated. “The vending machine had a panel like this!”

          Stanford put away the journal and stood back. “I know where we’re going now.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel sat in the interrogation room. She checked her watch constantly. “00:14:03”.

          Agent Powers walked into the room, flanked by a few agents. “Alright, Pines. Playtime is over. Chopper’s ready to dust off to Washington. I’ll enjoy putting you away.”

           “What?” Grauntie Mabel bit her tongue and smiled. “Um, can we stick around for maybe one minute? Uh, a minute and a half?”

           “We’re not falling for your games, Pines,” Agent Powers stated dryly and walked behind him. “Your time is finally up.”

          Grauntie Mabel chewed on her lip. “U-uh! Bathroom break? Just give me… fifteen seconds!”

          Agent Powers knelt behind her and started unlocking Grauntie Mabel’s handcuffs. “Sorry, but you’ve got a flight to catch.”

          _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

          Grauntie Mabel smirked. “And so do you.”

           “Huh?”

          Gravity reversed itself.

          The objects and people in the room rose. The agents yelled in surprise. Grauntie Mabel curled her legs back and kicked. The table she’d previously sat behind hit the two agents, knocking them back. In the process, she was thrown back into Agent Powers, who huffed as the wind was knocked out of him. She slammed the chair against the wall and kicked off. The chair splintered. Grauntie Mabel dove toward the key Agent Powers dropped and snatched it. Within seconds, she was free of her bonds.

           “Hey! Dang it, get back here!” Agent Powers yelled. “Men, get her!” The two agents, now recovered from the initial shock and the hit, dove at Grauntie Mabel. With a triumphant whoop, she kicked the one in front of her behind her and then the other. Both were thrown in Agent Powers. She managed to hit the door, open it, spin into the hall and, using the door as an anchor, shut and locked it. “No! You won’t get away with this!”

          Grauntie Mabel’s watch beeped again and gravity started to work again.

          They landed. Farther down the hall, Deputy Durland, holding a piñata fell out of a room. Sherriff Blubbs, blind folded, waved a bat. “Gon’ getcha! Gon’ getcha!”

          Grauntie Mabel darted outside and ran to the first taxi she found. Panting, she put a hand on the door. The taxi driver rolled down the window. “Do you know where the Mystery Shack is?”

           “Uh, yeah?”

          Grauntie Mabel fished some cash out of her pocket and presented it to the man. “Here’s a hundred dollars. Drive as fast and far away from the Shack as possible and don’t stop when the cops start chasing you!”

          The taxi driver shrugged, took the money, rolled up the window, and raced away. Grauntie Mabel hid behind a flipped car as Agent Powers and the two other agents ran out. “She’s getting away!” one of the agents yelled.

          Agent Powers looked at the taxi, which screeched around a corner. “Obviously! Follow that cab!”

 

          At the Mystery Shack, Agent Trigger ran his car through the front yard of the Mystery Shack and hopped out. “Mabel escaped! She’s at large! We need to sweep the town!” As the agents dispersed, he yelled, “Move! Move! Move!”

 

          Agents from within the house marched out into the yard and into cars, trucks, vans, and helicopters. Fiddleford gently opened the window of the gift shop overlooking the vending machine. Once it was open just big enough for him, which wasn’t very big, he squirmed through and fell onto the wooden floor. He scrambled to his feet. Fiddleford stood with his back against the vending machine. His backpack, one pocket open, was thrown over his shoulders. He held a remote.

           “Okay,” Fiddleford breathed. “Remember the plan: Protect the vending machine at all costs. Don’t let anyone in. Not even S-S-Stanford or S-Stanley. Not even those scary l-looking government people.” He took a deep breath and relaxed. “Don’t freeze up now, Fiddleford! You’ve got a job ta do and dag nabit you aren’t gunna mess it up!”

           “Fidds?” Fiddleford jumped as Stanford called his name. He turned to look at the two run out from somewhere in the house and stop in front of him.

           “O-oh! Stans! Where have you been?” Fiddleford prompted.

          Stanford tipped his head. “What are you doing here?”

          Stanley narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?” Stanford elbowed Stanley, causing him to huff.

           “Mrs. Pines gave me a mission to protect this machine,” Fiddleford stated. “I’m not letting anyone near it.”

          Stanford sighed. “Okay, Fidds, listen. Something big is going on here. If Mabel is hiding something, we need to know! We need you to step aside.”

          Fiddleford shook his head. His grip on the remote tightened. “N-no! I gave her my word that I would protect this machine with my life! I’m not going to let her down!”

          Stanley took a step forward, “Fidds, we’re her great nephews!”

          Stanford smiled. “And your best friends. Come on. We’re not those government people.”

           “It’s just a misunderstanding,” Stanley agreed. “People are mad at her. Maybe if we get in there, we can clear it all up!”

          _Not even Lee and Ford._ Fiddleford shook his head wildly. “No, not even you two. Ah-Ah’m sorry. Ah can’t let ya get to this machine.”

          Stanford gave Fiddleford a sad look and then nodded at his brother. Stanley sighed, “I’m sorry, Fidds.”

           “Wh-what?” Fiddleford gasped as Stanford attempted to take him by the arm and pull him back. Stanford snatched the remote out of his hands, easily disarming him and neutralizing any real threat Fiddleford would have been. Fiddleford struggled and pushed Stanford’s chest and grabbed his wrist. “Come on, guys! I don’t want to fight you!”

          Stanley wrapped his arms around Fiddleford’s chest from behind and pulled him back. “Sorry, man! We can’t- ow!” Stanley let go of him as Fiddleford elbowed him in the nose. Stanley took a step back and held a hand to his nose. “Agk.”

          Fiddleford gasped and spun around. “Oh no. Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t–”

          Stanford tapped in the code behind him. Each button in the ‘C’ shaped pattern glowed when pressed. Fiddleford spun around and attempted to pull Stanford back. Stanford managed to tap in the last button. The three yelled in surprise as the vending machine swung open with a wild hiss, throwing them all back. Stanley, completely uninjured, helped the stunned Stanford and then Fiddleford to their feet.

          The trio stalked into the concrete tunnel on light feet. Fiddleford looked about with wide eyes. “What the-? It looks like something from a TV show.”

           “Or a dream…” Stanley agreed.

           “…or a nightmare,” Stanford stated in a dark voice.

 

          Grauntie Mabel raced through the trail back to the Shack. She checked her watch. Her face paled further as she checked the time. “No! No, I have to be there when it happens!” She didn’t even wince as the brambles of a bush she blundered through tore into the shoulder of her suit.

 

          Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford rode down through the elevator. The gates shakily opened. The trio gasped as they walked straight into one of Stanford’s mystery books. The walls glowed in lights. Buttons, levers, and screens decorated the humming machinery lining the wall. The three looked over the area with eyes wide as moons.

           “Guys?” Stanley managed to wheeze. He gulped. “Are we dreaming? Are we back in the bunker?”

          Stanford slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

          Fiddleford’s gaze flicked about the awesome machinery. “This- this can’t be- what is this doin’ under the Mystery Shack?”

          Stanford’s eyes narrowed. “And what was the entrance doing in plain sight?”

          Fiddleford tore his gaze away from the walls and to his friend. “Okay, so she’s got this giant, futuristic lab hiding under the Shack. That doesn’t mean anythin’ bad! Everyone’s got secrets! Mrs. Pines, me, you- doesn’t mean they’re all bad!”

           “I’m not hiding an underground lab in my house,” Stanford countered, his voice dark.

          Stanley stopped in front of the desk at the end of the room. He plucked a well-kept, framed picture of him and Stanford. “Look! It’s us! This _is_ Grauntie Mabel. She loves us, dude. We love her, too, right?”

          Stanford stared at the desk. “It… it can’t be. The _other two journals?_ ” Fiddleford and Stanley gathered beside their brother and best friend. Laid out before them were two journals, both facing up. Both of them were bluish-gray, accented silver and tattered with age. A silver paper shaped like a pine tree pasted on the front of both of them. The number “1” dressed the first, while the number “2” dressed the second. Stanford set down Journal Three. They were a match. Stanford’s hands balled into fists. “All this time?! All this time and _she had the other journals?!_ ” He stamped his foot. “Was anything she told us real?”

           “A-a’ course it’s real,” Fiddleford stammered.

          Stanford whirled around and got nose-to-nose with him. Fiddleford paled and took a step back. “Then why would she have those journals? Why would she have them _and not tell us?_ ” Fiddleford’s mind went blank. He opened his mouth and then shut it.

          Stanley chipped in, “What if she’s the author?”

           “Or she _stole_ them from the author!” Stanford turned on him now. “Maybe she was the one threatening the author, she’s the one the author couldn’t trust. Think about it! She’s the nicest woman we know. She could get _anyone_ to be her friend. She could get _anyone_ to believe whatever she wants! She tricked us into believing she didn’t believe in the paranormal. She hid this from us all summer. What if she was ‘friends’ with the author and then turned on him and stole his stuff? That would explain the scrapbooks and IDs! And maybe she’s a master criminal and _this_ is her master plan!” Stanford looked up at the window. In the other room, a giant triangle machine with a white glowing center stood at the back. The runes ringing the white glow blazed in a swirling rainbow.

          Stanford flipped open all three books to the page on the machine, which was bookmarked. He pointed to the triangular machine on the books and took out a black light. Glowing words scrawled across the page in messy hand writing. “I was wrong this whole time,” Stanford red aloud. “This machine was meant to create knowledge, but it is too powerful. I was deceived, and now it is too late. The device, if fully operational, could tear our universe apart!” He looked over a picture of the world split in two with the words “TOTAL GLOBAL DESTRUCTION” written in heavy ink below it. “It must not fall into the wrong hands. If the clock ever reaches zero, our universe is doomed!”

          They looked up. A long screen above them counted down. “00:01:30” blazed in bold red numbers.

          Stanley gasped, “It’s the final countdown!”

          Stanford frantically flipped through the pages of the journals until he landed on one boldly proclaiming “MANUAL OVERRIDE”. His expression hardened. “Those government agents were right. We need to shut it down, now!”

          Stanford led them through the door into the portal room. They gasped as the room shuttered. Dust and bits of stone defected from the ceiling. Pointless ceiling lights waved and shuttered. Before them, blazing in bluish white light, was a triangular chunk of smooth metal that spanned from wall to wall, floor to ceiling of the basement nearly as big as the Mystery Shack itself. Stanford suddenly felt very small.

          Stanford looked about and then pointed to the right wall, where a stand with levers and the words “MANUAL OVERRIDE” stood. Three keys spread apart on the table. “There!” Stanford cried. “The manual override!” They raced to the scene, each person standing before one. “On my count! One, two, three!” They turned the golden keys at the same time. Near the center of the room, a pole with a bulb at the end hissed. The top half of the metal bulb flipped open, revealing a large red button. Wires ran from it, down a few feet toward the portal, and then split off to opposite sides of the room. “That’s it! The shutdown switch!” Stanford ran to the button. Under normal circumstances, he might have stumbled, tripped, or started to wear down. He’d done so much today that his body was complaining. Not today; this would not happen. He would not–could not–afford any delay. The universe couldn’t risk it.

          Stanford stopped in front of the button and raised his hand. “This all stops… _now!_ ” Palm flat and fingers spread wide, Stanford lowered his hand over the button.

           “STOP!” The shriek caused the boys to freeze and look at the door. “Please, don’t touch that button!” Grauntie Mabel stood at the door, one hand on the door frame, the other held out in front of her. Her hair was wild and tangled in the wind and rush of events. Part of it was dry, some still stuck up at angles and glistened. Marks tore through her suit in various places. She stared at the them with an intensity and a terror none of them had known before. Not even facing zombies or facing a pterodactyl had this light come to her eyes. But Stanford couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t focus on the heartbreaking terror and desperation the kindest person in his life now held. This woman was a traitor- a _threat_.

          Stanford’s hand remained suspended over the button.

          Grauntie Mabel, both hands in front of her, walked toward him. “Ford, calm down, back away. Please, don’t press that shutdown button. You _have_ to trust me!”

           “And why would I do that?” Stanford’s voice held an icy barb, now. His hand retracted from the button as he fired up his rant. “After you hid those scrapbooks, those tapes, those journals? After you stole that radioactive waste and lied to us all summer? Why should I trust you?! I don’t even know who you are!”

          Grauntie Mabel stopped a few feet away. For a moment, she stood speechless as if the last sentence had created a physical barrier before her. The portal’s light glinted off her eyes, off the tears she was holding back. She forced herself to continue forward, holding her hands out in a gentle manner. “I know this sounds crazy but _please._ This machine _needs_ to stay on! If you let me explain, I’ll- oh no.”

          _Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

           “Another one! Brace yourselves!” Her words turned into a shout as gravity gave up. They, along with the entire town above ground, were weightless. Anything not nailed to the ground, and even a few small things that were, lost contact with the earth. People, food, animals, signs, cars, and even a logging truck lost the ground and reached for the sky. Within the portal room, the bluish white glow in the center of the portal died off and revealed an endless expanse of the universe.

           “T minus thirty-five seconds.” Somewhere in the lab, the clock ticked down. It was strange having a robotic doomsday voice being the only thing holding any essence of calm.

          Stanford waved his arms as he attempted to right himself. He ended up hitting a wooden beam and held onto it. Fiddleford hovered in the middle of the room, his only anchor being a wire attached to the shutdown button. Stanford looked back. “Fidds! The button! Hurry!” Fiddleford grabbed onto the wire and pulled himself down.

           “NO!” Grauntie Mabel landed on the opposite wall and launched herself toward the button. “Fiddle, wait! Stop! Agk!” She yelped as Stanley barreled into her, his arms and legs wrapped around her back and shoulders. “STANLEY! What are you doing?!” She attempted to pry his hands off her, but his fingers locked together and he held on with all his might. Fiddleford grabbed onto the metal pole and wrapped himself around it.

           “No! I’m not letting go, Mabel- if that’s who you are.” Stanley looked down at his best friend. “Keep going!”

          Grauntie Mabel twisted herself around so that she could recover from the knock back. Stanford glared at her and pushed himself off the beam and rammed into Grauntie Mabel. She was forced back rather than to the side. Stanford yelled, “Fiddleford, press the red button! _Now!_ ”

          Grauntie Mabel attempted to wriggle out of their grasp. The twins were too much. One was bad enough, but the team was impossible. “No, you can’t! You’ve got to trust me! _Fiddle!_ ”

          Fiddleford coiled himself around the bar and held his hand over the button. A mess of thoughts gathered in his head. _“Press the button!” “No! Don’t!” “Do it! They need you!” “DON’T! She needs you!” “The universe is at stake.” “She knows what she’s doing.” “Stop being stupid and press the button!” “The boys gave you an order!” “SHE gave you an order!”_ “Mrs. Pines,” he managed to choke out. “I’m sorry. I don’t! I can’t! I want to believe you!” He shook his head. Noise from echoing basement and his own violent head beat into his skull like a sledgehammer. His heart raced and his lungs quit working properly. His skin tingled and his blood felt weird. He felt weightless but, at the same time, like he was about to be crushed. What was this? What was this? _What was this?_ Let him out. God, please let him out! Don’t let him make this decision. He’s going to screw up! He’s going to–

           “Fiddleford, it’s okay.” Grauntie Mabel’s voice came to him. It was far from quiet, but it was not harsh. It was the same voice she used so many times before. When Fiddleford got overwhelmed, he’d hear that voice. Soon after, he’d feel a large, soft hand on his shoulder or back or head or arm. As if by magic, the terror would seep away. Fiddleford forced his eyes to open. When had he closed them? He looked up at the three floating people. “Deep breaths. This is going to be okay.”

           “No, it’s not!” Stanford countered. “Press the button!”

          Just like that, Fiddleford was broken out of the tentative hope and was torn back to reality. “No!” His hand curled into a fist.

           “Fiddle, wait! Please! Just li–”

           “T minus twenty seconds.”

          The portal exploded. They screamed as a blinding light blazed through the room. The force of a tidal wave pushed them. While all three Pines lost their grip on one another and hit the farthest wall, Fiddleford was shoved harder into the pole.

           “This morning. I wanted to say that you’re going to hear some bad things about me,” Grauntie Mabel started. Fiddleford opened his eyes again. She’d hit the wall so hard, she dented a metal pipe. Her arms were hooked under it now to stabilize herself. “Some of them are true. But I swear that everything I do, everything I’ve ever done, is all for this family! For all of us!”

          _“For this family.”_ Grauntie Mabel could look him in the eyes and call him _family._

          Stanford, who was pressed tight against the wall to her right, barked, “What if she’s lying?! You’re a genius, Fiddleford! Listen to your head! This thing could destroy the universe!”

           “Look into my eyes, Fiddle. Tell me I’m a bad person,” Grauntie Mabel demanded.

          Fiddleford looked between them, his head jerking from side to side to focus on each as they spoke. He… he couldn’t bear to look into Grauntie Mabel’s eyes. The intensity of her panic, her desperation- Fiddleford couldn’t look into another mirror.

           “She’s _lying_ , Fiddleford! Shut it down!” Stanford barked.

           “This will kill us!” Stanley yelled. “Listen to Ford and _shut it down!_ ”

           “Fiddle, please!” Grauntie Mabel begged. Tears glimmered in the air around her eyes.

           “Ten… nine…”

          Electricity hissed and arched from the portal to the two pits of light on either side of the room. Lasers shot out of the circles of light in the floor straight up like prison cells.

           “Mrs. Pines…” Fiddleford stared into her eyes. Quite suddenly, his mind became clear. _Let go._

          Fiddleford relaxed and untangled himself from the shutdown button. He felt himself begin to float. The hard feeling of gravity crushing him dissipated as he spoke. “I trust you.”

          _“FIDDLEFORD ARE YOU INSANE?!_ ” Stanford shrieked. “ _WE’RE ALL GOING TO–”_

           “…one.”

          The portal let out one last shockwave. Light enveloped them all, blinding them, burning them. Screams added the crescendo of catastrophic, ear-bursting noise in the basement and the world around them. It leeched the consciousness of the people around the portal as everything turned white. People floated, weightless, unconscious. Objects soared. The glass on Stanley and Stanford’s picture shattered. The gravity outside gave one last tug to bring everything, including houses cemented to the ground, up into the air. Then, everything fell.

          Bodies littered the basement floor. Stanford, the first to “recover”, got up on his knees and rubbed his head. As the light died, they found themselves in a basement of rubble. The portal, broken, stabbed the ground at the far end of the room. The light swirled and frothed. An entity, a humanoid wrapped in black, stepped out of the portal. A cape fluttered behind him. A giant gun longer than Stanford was tall strapped to his back. The light caught his goggles, hiding his eyes completely.

          The man didn’t make a sound as he stepped forward. He hesitated by Journal One and knelt. The silver pine tree on his shoulder showed in its full fantastic glory in the dying light as he picked up the journal, stood up straight, and carefully tucked it away in his trench coat.

          Stanford stared at him, his mouth open and eyes wide. “Who’s that?”

          Grauntie Mabel sat up. “The author of the journals…”

          The man took off his goggles and pulled down the bandana around his mouth. His eyes, the same deep brown as Mabel’s, stared down at him. The Big Dipper birthmark on his forehead bared as his gray hair shuttered in the nervous air current. The kids stood up and clustered together, gaping at the newest edition to the basement.

           “…my brother.”

*          *          *          *          *

          Sunlight, dull and red as the sun died, fell to the horizon. Shadows from nearby buildings and the trees in the park were thrown. Two kids sitting on a see-saw faced the sunset. The see-saw creaked as the twins, a girl and boy of twelve, gently and slowly moved up and down like the quiet, perpetually tugging and pulling tides of the ocean.

 

VB GSE ETRVGMJ H EUFVXVUK HZA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet memes are made of these~!
> 
> But seriously, I knew it wasn't _vigenère_ going to be Stanley. Stanley has too much faith in his brother. Stanford is too uppidty and paranoid to trust Mabel. But Fiddleford has _nightmare_ just the right amount of trust. Also: Ahh! I wrote it!  <3  
> Also, Dan doing a one-eighty makes me laugh every time.
> 
> ~~I'm so tempted to go on a two-week haitus after this just to mess with people. Haha~~


	9. A Tale of Two Maes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The town was literally turned upside down, a portal the kids just discovered under the Shack has blown up, and a man of mysterious origins has just walked into the world. Who would like to tell a story?

          The heat of the California sun blazed over the beaches, city, and deserts of the west coast. Twins, one a boy and one a girl no older than twelve, stood in their small, comfy living room. Despite the summer heat outside, the girl wore a pink sweater branded by a yellow shooting star. The boy’s blue and white baseball cap with a pine tree silhouette in the center of the front pushed down his thick brown hair.

          Dipper pulled out a square of cardboard from his navy-blue vest. Mabel, his sister, held a camera and watched him. Dipper cleared his throat, wiped off his smile, and held the sign out of sight of the camera. “DIPPER’S GUIDE” with the slight smaller letters “TO THE” underneath of that and then the large letters “UNEXPLAINED #12” “‘SHOWER DOOR’” dressed it. Mabel turned on the camera and gave him the thumbs up. “Hello, I’m Dipper Pines and the girl with the camera is my sister, Mabel. Welcome to Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained.” He held up his cardboard piece just under his head for the camera to see. “‘Shower Door’. Normally, houses aren’t haunted unless there’s been some strange paranormal activity before. But apparently, there’s no history on this house!”

           “None!” Mabel agreed.

           “Which is very suspicious. So, we’re setting off to investigate it ourselves.” Dipper crept out of the living room and to their bathroom. “Every night, _that_ door mysteriously opens.” Dipper pointed to the sliding opaque glass door on their shower. It was slightly ajar. He shut it. “Every night, we close it. But then, in the morning, it’s mysteriously open! No one in the house knows why.”

           “That’s why we made a bunch of theories!” Mabel agreed. Dipper took the camera from her and pointed it at her. Mabel dug through a bag she had at her side and held up a stack of papers. The front one had a spooky green ghost opening the bathroom door. An arrow written in crayon was pointed to it with the words “Prank-ghost!”. “One theory is it could be some sort of ghost that likes to pull pranks! That would explain why our bedroom door keeps opening, too!” She set down that paper to expose another, which was a picture of the glass door with an angry face on it. An arrow labeled “Watches us when we shower??” was pointed to the face. “It could be a haunted door that opens and closes by itself.” The third picture was of Dipper running with a camera with swirls for eyes. “Or Dipper is just crazy!”

          Dipper took the paper away from her. “That’s not true! That’s not a real theory!” Mabel laughed. He cleared his throat and turned the camera around to face him. “How do you catch something that has never been caught? Easy. We’re going to do a stake-out.”

 

          Mabel turned the camera on and pointed it at Dipper. That night, Dipper and Mabel stood in the bathroom. Dipper whispered, “It’s night. I’m shutting the shower door.” Dipper shut the bathroom door and then ran with his sister into the closet. They shut the door. Eventually, they heard the bathroom door creak open. Dipper and Mabel grinned at each other and tip-toed out of the closet. The shower door creaked open. Dipper opened the bathroom door and pointed to the shower. “A-ha! We caught you… Fluffy?” Mabel turned the camera on their gray cat, who stood in the shower. He mewed. Dipper sighed and turned to the camera. “Due to irrefutable evidence, I must conclude that Anomaly Number Twelve, the Bathroom Ghost, was our cat, Fluffy.” Fluffy mewed and jumped out of the shower to greet them.

          Mabel turned off the camera and smiled. “Don’t look so down, Dipper! We’ll find a ghost or goblin or whatever someday.”

          Dipper smiled. “Yeah, I hope so.” He yawned. “Well, guess it’s time to go to bed.”

           “Good night, bro-bro.” Mabel walked back to their room.

          Dipper followed her. “Good night, Mabel.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

          Years later, dust swirled through the shaken town of Gravity Falls. The sun tentatively shone over the terrorized forest. The Mystery Shack, worn as the portal’s immense energy outbursts injured it, sagged under the heavy light. Underneath of the Mystery Shack, the below ground lab did not fair any better.

          The triangular portal that once blazed with light and energy lay in ruins. Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford stood clumped together near the door. Fiddleford clung to Stanford. Stanley held Stanford’s hand. All three of them focused on the black-garbed person in the center of the room. That’s the mysterious man. There was no mistaking it. They could even see the celestial birthmark on his forehead and his deep brown eyes.

          Grauntie Mabel stood just a few feet away from them, her round eyes stared at the figure before her, at the person who’d just left the portal. Grauntie Mabel wore a grin larger than any of the kids had ever seen. “After all these years!” she announced. “You’re here! You’re finally here!” The man narrowed his eyes. The two of them looked quite alike. However, his frown and narrowed eyes were a very large contrast to Grauntie Mabel’s grin and watery eyes. She spread her arms wide in a hug. _“Brother!”_

          As if on instinct, the moment Grauntie Mabel moved toward him, he swung. She yelped as he punched her square in the jaw and stumbled back. She set a hand on her jaw and stared at him with round eyes. “What the-? Ow! I mean _what?_ What the _heck_ was that for?!”

          The man looked down at his fist in surprise, and, hiding the pain in his knuckles, snapped, “This was _insanely_ risky! Restarting the portal like that- didn’t you read my warnings?!” Yep. That was his voice.

          Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “ _Warnings?_ How about _maybe_ a thanks for saving you from some sort of weird sci-fi dimension?” Grauntie Mabel scoffed and unfolded her arms to gesture to what he was wearing.

          The mysterious man bristled. “Thank you? You really think I’m going to _thank you_ after what you did _THIRTY YEARS AGO?!_ ”

           “What _I_ did?! Why you ungrateful-” she hissed and, fingers curled back to expose the palm of her hand, struck at his chest. The man dodged and then jumped nimbly back as she kicked him. “Don’t you think I’ll go easy on you!” she hissed. The man grabbed her forearms and attempted to pull her arms back. “Just because you’re _family!_ ” She kicked his legs back and caused them both to hit the ground.

           “Hey! _Hey!_ ” Stanley yelled and ran up to them. The quarreling siblings, Grauntie Mabel on her back with her feet planted on the mysterious man’s abdomen and hands gripping his wrist, tipped her head back and lost her snarl. The mysterious man stared at him. Though he lost his scowl, he didn’t seem to relax. “What the _heck_ is going on here?!”

          The mysterious man let go of Grauntie Mabel and hopped up. “You didn’t tell me there were children down here, Mabel.”

           “They’re your grandnephews, Dip-stick,” Mabel stated coldly. “Tyrone’s grandchildren.”

           “I’m a great uncle?” the man echoed.

          Stanford’s eyes grew round in shock. “Y-you mean- _you’re our great uncle?”_

           “The mysterious man is yer _great uncle?_ ” Fiddleford gasped, his eyes going round.

          Stanley looked up at him with round eyes. “And it was _you_ who wrote the journals! Whoa-ho-ho!”

           “I should’ve known!” Stanford squeaked. “It’s so obvious!”

           “Myst- look, we’ll have time for introductions later.” He turned to Grauntie Mabel. “Does anyone–anyone at all–know about this portal?”

          Grauntie Mabel scoffed. “Just us.” A thought popped into her head. “And maybe the entire US government.”

           “The _what?”_ The man ran to the window that stood as a barrier between the portal room and the control room. People in government uniforms and armor along with helicopters and cars gathered around the Mystery Shack.

          _“Fan out! We’re not going anywhere until we find Mabel Pines and those kids!”_ Agent Powers commanded.

          The mysterious man took a deep breath and took a step back. “Okay, this can be solved.” He took out Journal One from his jacket as well as a pen and started marking on it. “We just need to lay low and figure out a plan.”

          Stanley looked between them. “Well, it looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while. Sooo who wants to tell us their entire life story?”

           “Yes, I have some questions, too, Mabel,” the man agreed tersely without looking back.

          Fiddleford blurted out, “Who are you?”

           “Mason Pines,” the man answered briskly.

           “Dipper,” Mabel agreed.

           “Don’t call me that!” Dipper snapped.

           “D… Mason Pines?” Stanford prompted. “If you’re our great uncle, then why didn’t you tell us that before?”

           “Like when you tried to say your name after Gideon attacked us!” Stanley agreed. “But you didn’t!”

           “Or when ya took us home after helpin’ defeat the Summerween Trickster,” Fiddleford agreed.

           “Before what? I haven’t been in this dimension for _thirty years,_ ” Dipper stated. “I haven’t seen Gideon since he was fifteen years old. …Mabel. What do you know about this?” He turned to look at her.

          Grauntie Mabel put a hand to the back of her neck. “Okay. I might’ve… _dressed_ and talked like you so I could go out on missions to make sure the kids were safe. And I might’ve been pretending to be you for the last thirty years for the sake of owning the house…”

           “You took my name?” Dipper snapped. “You seriously- urgh! What have you been _doing_ all these years?”

           “Yeah,” Stanford agreed. “No more lies, Grauntie Mabel! You owe us some answers. What’s with this portal? Why’d you keep it a secret?”

           “What happened between you and your brother?” Stanley was quick to agree.

          Fiddleford threw his arms in the air. “A-an’ why didn’t ya tell us about magic in the first place if ya were goin’ to be followin’ us, anyway?”

          Grauntie Mabel held her hands up in front of her. “Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. Let’s see… It all started a lifetime ago… nineteen sixty something. Piedmont, California.” A slight smile flitted over her features. “I lived with my Mom and Dad in our little home on the corner. Nice house, if small. I mean, we did have an upstairs. Ahem, anyway, our parents were pretty cool. Mom was super-duper creative and pretty much thought that everything could be enhanced with color and pictures. She was a painter after all.” She chuckled. “Dad said I took after her. Dad, though! He was kinda tough, but he was very involved with all of us. He worked long hours at the auto shop, but he always had time for us. Dipper took after him.”

           “Mason,” Dipper was quick to intervene.

           “Dippy dog was a pretty nerdy little bro. I’ve probably told you that before.”

           “I’m not little! We’re the same age!” Dipper complained.

           “I’m five minutes older. And girls mature faster,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out. “Now let me get on with my story! Ahem. So. Dipper.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “He was the smartest kid on the block and absolutely obsessed with the paranormal- namely ghosts. As if his big head didn’t set him apart enough, he was born with _that_ on his head! The perfect Big Dipper. That’s where he got his nick-name after all. As for me, I had what Mom liked to call: _creatimagination._ ” She waved her hands as if this was the most glorious word she could think of. “But, different as we were, we made the most awesomazing team. Every day we’d go out and search for more paranormal activity. We’d hunt down ghosts and goblins and anything that sounded out of the ordinary.”

          _The twins navigated the streets, their bright eyes looking about their surroundings. Mabel held her hands out and skipped, often hopping from one area to another. She laughed as a butterfly fluttered past her nose. Dipper held a camera and surveyed his surroundings. Soon, they came across a trailer stuck in the side of the road, just outside of the housing district. Its remaining tires sunk into the ground and plants crept up its broken and rusted sides. “Whoa!” Dipper breathed and held up his camera. “A broken old trailer! Do you think it could be haunted?”_

          _“Whoa!” Mabel gasped, her deep brown eyes round. She turned to her brother with a devilish grin and pushed him. “I dare you to touch it!”_

          _“Ah! Mabel!” Dipper complained but approached the vehicle all the same. He opened the backdoor to shed light over the dusty, rusted interior. He hopped inside, causing it to shutter. A mouse scampered over his feet._

          _“Are you dead?” Mabel called and walked around to the front._

          _“Nope!” Dipper called back and jumped down. “Hmm… you know, this doesn’t look like a half bad lab.”_

          _“Yeah!” Mabel agreed. “Let’s give it a…_ trailer makeover! _”_

          _Dipper started to speak but yelped as a pebble hit his forehead. “Ow! What the heck?” The two turned around. Standing a few feet away from them were two of the bigger bullies that like to attack them._

          _The blonde one clicked his tongue. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dip-stick and Marbles! Nice trailer! I see your mom finally got a car.” The blonde one held up his hand. His brunette friend high-fived him._

          _Mabel stamped her foot and glared at them. “Get lost before I bust your nose!”_

          _The blonde one sneered, “You wish! Listen up, dorks. You’re a weird freak,” he pointed at Dipper, who pulled his hat down to shadow his face, “-and you’re just a dumber, girl version of him!” He looked at Mabel, who bristled. “You’re lucky you got each other ’cause you ain’t goin’ nowhere!” He snickered and high-fived his brunette friend before cycling away._

          _Dipper glanced up at his forehead and pressed his hat down firmer over his thick hair._

          _“Hey, Dippy dog, don’t take it personally.” She punched him in the shoulder. “One of these days, we can leave these losers behind. We’ll start our own monster hunting team and go across the country!”_

          _“You really think so?” Dipper prompted._

          _“I know so.” Mabel spread her arms wide. “Awkward sibling hug?”_

          _Dipper smiled and spread his arms wide, too. “Awkward sibling hug.”_

          _The two hugged and then patted each other’s backs with a “Pat, pat”._

           “Hehe. Those were the good times. Those bullies may have been a nuisance and a plague, but we never let them stop us! As the years passed, our little pet project was getting better and better- and Dipper’s obsession. Sure I… got into my fair share of trouble. Like when I accented the school bulletin board with some glitter or painted a unicorn mural on the school yard. Actually, that’s where I met Candy and Grenda.”

           “Candy and Grenda? As in ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? ‘Growling’ Grenda?” Stanley couldn’t help but interject.

          Dipper gave him a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow. Mabel nodded. “Mhm! The best pals a gal could have! But more on those two later.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, so, we had it good. I was never the best with homework, so I often made Dipper help me. He was awesome at everything. Homework, school work, studying, concentration, pretty much anything you could think of.” Behind her, Dipper’s hard gaze had softened a bit. He stared at his journal. Her smile faltered. “But, uh… heh. Things don’t always stay simple. It’s weird, but… it only took one day to change our lives totally forever. I thought my whole ‘not-wanting-to-grow-up’ phase was bad! Hehe…”

 

          _“Pines twins to the principal’s office. Pines twins to the principal’s office,” a woman over the PA called. Dipper, who’d been feverishly scribbling something in his notebook, and Mabel, who’d been doodling a pig and gnawing on a gummy worm, looked up._

          _“Wonder what that’s about,” Mabel wondered aloud and looked at her brother. He shrugged._

          _When they got to the principal’s office, the lady at the desk paused in filing her nails. “Not you,” she stated to Mabel. “Him.”_

          _Mabel looked at them, shrugged, and sat down._

          _Dipper walked inside. His parents looked back at him as did the principal. When Dipper sat down, the principal went off in his speech, “If I may speak to you very frankly, Mr. Pines?”_

          _“I’ll have it no other way,” Mr. Pines stated._

          _“Good. You have two kids,” the principal went on. “One’s incredibly gifted. The other’s sitting outside this room and her name is Mabel.” Dipper glanced back at the door. Mabel, who was not-so-secretly listening in on the conversation, stared at her feet, a frown spreading across her features._

          _“What are you saying?” their mother prompted._

          _“I’m saying,” The principal stood up and threw his hands in the air. “Your son, Mason, is a GENIUS!” The man pulled out a blue pamphlet accented silver. The three looked over the tri-fold pamphlet in shock and wonder. “Ever heard of West Coast Tech? Best filming and tech college in the country. That’s not to mention a mentorship with a very esteemed professor there.” Dipper looked up at him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a surprise he wasn’t glowing. “The admissions team is visiting tomorrow to check out Mason’s experiment. Your son may be a future millionaire.”_

          _Mr. Pines smiled. “Really?” He looked over at Dipper, who was now engrossed in the pamphlet again._

          _“But what about our little free spirit Mabel?” Mrs. Pines prompted._

          _“That clown?” the principal scoffed. By now, Mabel was at the door, her ear pressed against the glass. “She’s a ditz, a dreamer. She’ll be lucky to make_ anything _out of her life. Mason’s goin’ places. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you’ll have one kid here forever.” Mabel sat down and bundled up in her pink kitten-with-a-bowtie sweater. She put a hand to her cheek. A heart sticker stuck to her face. All this time she thought she was being charming… but she was actually just a big joke._

          _She heard something hit the desk inside._

          _Dipper’s hand ruffled a paper on the desk as he slapped his hand onto the wood. The principal’s wide grin left him. His parents turned to him in shock. “You know Mabel’s right outside this door! You know she can hear you.”_

          _The principal sat back. “This isn’t about her, Mason. This is about you.”_

          _“Then don’t talk about her like that.” Dipper removed his hand from the table and looked down at the pamphlet again._

          _Mabel and Dipper sat on the teeter totter. Due to age and growth, their knees were bent and heels up so that the teeter totter was more stable. Dipper, being the taller of the two, held more of the weight. Dipper held the pamphlet in his hands._

          _“Heh.” Mabel folded her arms on her lap and looked up at Dipper. “Guess, uh… guess you really told that principal off.”_

          _Dipper grinned at her. “I can’t have anyone ragging on Marbles! That’s my job!”_

          _“Shut up!” She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. He winced but didn’t lose his smile. She turned her gaze to the park lake. “So, about the apprenticeship, huh?”_

          _Dipper looked down at the pamphlet again, as if he hadn’t studied every inch of it three times over. “Yeah. This… Mabel, I never would’ve thought…”_

          _“It’s been your dream since we were kids,” Mabel agreed. “But it’s all across the country.”_

          _Dipper frowned and turned to the lake as well. “Yeah, guess it is. Heh.” He smiled again. “I probably should leave the trailer with you, eh?”_

          _“What? Our lab?” Mabel squawked. “Nah, bro! You take it. It’ll give you all the more reason to visit us.”_

          _“I don’t know if I’ll have the time,” Dipper admitted._

          _“If you don’t visit us at least every holiday and birthday and everything else, I will totally send you a glitter package.”_

          _Dipper groaned. “I just got rid of the one from_ last _year!”_

          _Mabel laughed. “Exactly!” A sudden thought came to her head. “So… speaking of the trailer… what about our mission? To go across the country and film the paranormal and stuff?”_

          _Dipper chuckled and took a deep breath. “Oh, right. Well, we’re not going to be in college forever. Plus, with this new degree, we can go wherever we need to and no one can stop us!” Mabel smiled at that. Dipper got up and walked off. Mabel’s smile faded a bit._

          _Mabel’s end sank to the ground as Dipper’s was lifted._

          Mabel shrugged. “I dunno. After that I just… lost some steam. It was bad enough we were growing up and leaving all our childhood behind. It was even worse that Dipper was going to the other side of the country. I mean, I had to go to college, too. I just thought that we’d be going to the same college. We’d take a few classes together. I’d go to his dorm and force him to eat because he could go days without food or sleep if I let him. Well, I guess not food. He liked to eat his shirt whenever he goes without sleep for a while.” She grinned back at him. Dipper didn’t look back. Though his shoulders were still hunched and he didn’t look at them, Mabel could feel the small smile coming to him. “Ah, but I guess it was whatever. I mean, after that, the coolest thing _did_ happen.”

          _Dipper and Mabel sat on the couch together. Mabel was part of the way done knitting a purple sweater with a gray kitten on it. Dipper red a mystery book. Although the TV was on, neither of them payed attention to it._

          _“Mabel!” the sudden yell came from downstairs. The twins perked up._

          _“Yeah, Mom?” Mabel called back._

          _“Get down here!”_

          _Mabel made a weird face. Neither of them could detect anger, but ‘get down here’ never led to anything good._

          _Mabel, Dipper at her side, slunk into the kitchen. Their mother and father sat at the table. The twins followed suit. “So,” their mother stated. “-do you know what I just got in the mail?”_

          _Mabel thought for a moment. “Uh… dogs with hats?”_

          _Their mother shook her head, though she couldn’t wipe off the small smile that was forming. She handed her a letter. “For you.”_

          _Mabel took the letter. Her eyes grew round in wonder. “Academy of Art” was written in curly letters. Dippers’ eyes widened as well. Mabel tore open the letter and took out the first paper. “Blah, blah, blah… arty school stuff… San Francisco… I… oh my gosh.” She giggled like a maniac. “They let me in! I’m going to be an art student in San Francisco!”_

          _Dipper wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Congratulations! Now_ I _have to worry about ever seeing you again.”_

          _“As if!” Mabel laughed back and looked up at him. “I mean, I might have to tone down the weekly dose of sweaters to monthly, but there’s no way I’m letting you get away that easy!”_

           “Everything was falling into place.” Mabel smiled. “The future was coming for us all.”

          Stanley gasped, “Oh, man! Here I thought something really bad would happen.”

           “Yeah like you’d accidently wreck his chances of going to college and then have to leave each other,” Stanford scoffed.

           “How silly!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “I’d never ruin anything of Dipper’s.” Her eyes fell on the ruined portal. “Oh. Well, most anything.” She cleared her throat. “So, uh, anyway. We both got to go to our dream colleges! My school was absolutely amazing, of course. There was art _everywhere!_ I didn’t get in half as much trouble there then I did in high school. In fact, people _paid_ me to paint murals and decorate things. I became head of the decorating committee and, for once, got straight A’s in more than one of my classes! Unfortunately, Dipper got so caught up in his studies that he _accidentally_ forgot to visit us a few times.” She put the word ‘accidentally’ in quotes. “So, I, uh, _accidentally_ sent him a glitter package.”

           “It took _weeks_ ,” Dipper agreed, a scowl coming to his face.

          Mabel giggled. “Yeah, well, you got me back, good. I send him a letter packed full of glitter so tight it explodes when opened, and he sends me a slimy letter thing. Ew. It was disgusting. A bug jumped out at me, I swear. But, you know, it wasn’t all bad. I sent him letters every week and a sweater every month. He sent me letters back every week and a video recording every month.”

          Stanford looked at Dipper. “How did your dream school go?”

           “Well,” Dipper answered. “I bounced from subject to subject. My primary target was getting a degree in filming so I could make my own ghost hunting show. But I took many other classes outside of that to learn more about the paranormal. My mentor was very strict and tough and rarely gave out anything but a ‘you could do better’ or ‘do you call that a project’? I was beginning to think he couldn’t smile. In fact, I was starting to regret the apprenticeship. Then, one day, when I finished up a project, he turned to me and said with a smile so faint I could hardly see it, ‘okay job’. You wouldn’t think that was much, but it was the world. My projects soon became nationally ranked, my grades were exceptional, and I got recommendations from some of the most prestigious professors in the industry.”

          A smile flitted over his features. “But it occurred to me, most of the way through school, that I had no clue where I’d start my career. Was I going into a business? Was someone else going to be my boss? Would I go into a film crew and help make corny movies? I didn’t like the idea, but it would’ve paid more bills. Or would I get to actually go and film something worthwhile? Funnily enough, in my studies, I found one place that had more paranormal sightings than any other. Coincidentally, a place just up north of California. It was a small town in roadkill county, Oregon- a town called _Gravity Falls._ ”

           “Meanwhile, your great aunt was doing awesomely!” Mabel agreed. “Dipper talked to me about going to Oregon and I thought ‘why not’? I mean, this could be our chance. This was our dream come true. All we needed was some gas in the tank and a new coat of paint for our trailer and we’d be set!” She waved her hands in front of her. “It was a dream come true. When I told the gals, Grenda said she’d already settled down with a husband in Oregon. Candy said she found a sweetheart somewhere else.” She winked at Dipper.

          Dipper got slightly red in the face. “Candy Chiu was my friend. We had a purely platonic relationship. There was no romance no matter what you say.”

           “Whatever you say, lady killer.” Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “But, that was my time in college. Hehe. Everything was looking bright. I had a special art degree and then, a little while after graduation, a husband. We had the trailer all pretty and gussied up. It was going to be a great time! We were heading out on our own.”

           “For the first time,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “I might have gone to college all the way across the country, but sometimes it felt like I was still in our living room with Mabel just feet away ready to pounce if I ever went to sleep late or skipped a meal. I used my grant money to start our investigations. Our first stop was–”

           “-Gravity Falls,” the two said together.

           “But what would we find?” Grunkle Dipper prompted. “Hopefully it was ghosts, but I was not above finding gremlins or banshees.”

           “Or cute vampires and mermaids,” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

          _Dipper stood by his house, which was right now only a skeleton. Wendy hammered in some nails in the second story. Mabel ruffled through something in their vibrant trailer. A giant hand came out of the trees, grabbed his car, and pulled it in. Dipper gasped in excitement and beamed. A monster! A very real, very here monster!_

           “There it was. I started my work immediately.”

          _Dipper, now in his newly built study, took a sheet of thin silver paper and cut out a perfect pine tree silhouette. He glued down part of the top cover of a deep blue leather book and attached the silver paper to it. Then, he drew a sharp, thick letter “one”._

           “I knew I’d need to record my findings. So, I began to keep a journal…”

           “The journals!” Stanford gasped and then cleared his throat when he became aware people had turned their attention on him. “Er, sorry.”

          Grunkle Dipper cleared his throat. “Okay. So, I began to keep a journal.” He eyed Stanford. When the boy sat quietly and made no motion to speak, Grunkle Dipper continued, “There were paranormal creatures everywhere. The more I looked, the more I saw.”

           “The more we saw,” Grauntie Mabel agreed, “-the more we recorded. Dipper might have kept a journal, but we decided that it would be best if we both kept something to record what we found.”

          Dipper nodded. “I made a journal. But we also kept a video log. I was… hesitant, but Mabel eventually wore me down. Instead of making a whole new series, we continued off our ‘Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained’ series.”

           “I wanted to rename it ‘Dipper and Mabel’s Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun!’. To make it fancy, we’d make it ‘volume two’. But Dipper said that was too long so we just made it ‘Dipper and Mabel’s Guide to the Unexplained, Volume Two’. Hehe. Anyway, since he was keeping a book, I kept one, too. But this one… was different.”

          _Mabel lay on her stomach on her light pink bed. Crafting supplies scattered about the slightly messy room. Before her was a long, very thick book. She stamped a meticulously painted gold shooting star on the front. On the spine, she wrote the number ‘1’._

           “You kids didn’t know it existed because I keep it locked up.” Her gaze flicked to Stanford. “You might have found one of my stashes, kid, but I’m too good at hiding things.” Stanford gained a sheepish smile and shifted from foot to foot. “I thought we were only staying for a while,” Grauntie Mabel began again. “-but I didn’t know how long. Gravity Falls wasn’t supposed to be a _permanent_ place.”

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yes, yes. I know. Still, there was so much going on. There were ghosts to hunt down, but there were all types of other paranormal creatures!”

          _Dipper chased floating eyeballs with a net. Mabel chased after him, a camera in her hands. While Mabel took all types of pictures of them for her scrapbook, Dipper sketched them out in his journal. Dipper shouted in surprise and nearly knocked over an ink bottle as Mabel tried taking one out. He promptly stopped her._

          _They found a light blue egg. Dipper set up a video camera nearby and pointed it at the egg. Mabel put a hand over her mouth to keep from cooing as the egg cracked and the critter hatched. The creature within slipped onto the ground in a mess of goo and egg shell. It’s little arms and legs curled up to its body. The beige critter looked at the cup with round purple eyes. It changed into an exact duplicate of the cup._

          _Dipper interviewed a grizzled gnome in their house. As he measured it, he spoke. “What did you say your name was, again?”_

          _“Shmebulock. Senior,” the gnome croaked._

          Dipper continued, “I knew we should be leaving, but I was utterly fascinated by it all. Then, as years started to pass, I began to wonder: where were these things coming from? They were so weird and out of the norm that they couldn’t be from this dimension. I began to think. What if these creatures weren’t native to Earth? What if they fell in through some weird dimension that leaked into ours? I started shifting my talents from filming and chasing down monsters, to researching them. It was then that I realized… the only way to continue our research in earnest was to build a portal. But we couldn’t do it alone. I wasn’t a mechanic and neither was Mabel. So, I decided to call up an old friend of mine from our days in college… and in high school.” He shook his head. “The poor woman was wasting her talent trying to enhance human body parts with machines.”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Either way, Candy was coming! Candy, my best friend since high school, was coming to meet Dipper and I in Gravity Falls! With Grenda here, it’d finally be the three of us all together again.”

           “And we’d be working on the greatest thing of our entire lives. We were creating a transuniversal portal. We spent many, many long nights working on, and perfecting, the machine,” Grunkle Dipper explained. “It would give us all the answers we needed.”

          Mabel shuffled her feet. “And many, many long nights for me. I’m no genius like my brother or best friend. So, I spent the time with Grenda and the town. I worked on clothes and my art. It also became a daily routine to drag Candy and Dipper out of the basement for dinner and bed.”

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. He lost his smile. “But finally came the day to test it.” Grauntie Mabel’s smile left, too. “I… I made the decision that Mabel couldn’t be there. She might disrupt us. So, I sent her off on a trip to our parents’ house. You know, to bring them up to speed in person. While Candy and I tested the machine.”

          _Dipper and Candy held a resting dummy on a rope. They stayed by the yellow and black line. The portal frothed and swirled. Dipper stated, his voice loud and clear, “Ready, and… go.” He released the dummy. Candy did the same. The dummy floated toward the portal. The closer it got, the faster it traveled. Candy gasped and then yelled as the rope caught her ankle and dragged her to the portal. “What? Oh no! I got you!” Dipper grabbed the rope. The rope went taut. Candy, most of her body already through the portal, was now only inside of their dimension by her foot. Dipper, grunting and heaving in the effort it took, stepped back and dragged her out of the portal. Once she was out, the portal hissed and calmed. Candy and the dummy flopped to the ground, utterly still and connected to Earth’s gravity._

          _Dipper ran to her side and patted her shoulder. Her bulging eyes gazed up at the ceiling. Candy’s pupils were so wide, he couldn’t see the color of her irises. “What’s wrong? Is it working? What did you see?!”_

          _Candy, gasping, sat up straight. “VOTMZRIG IVSKRX OORY.”_

          _“Candy?” Dipper recoiled. His voice went soft._

          _“When Gravity Falls and Earth becomes Sky, fear the beast with just one eye,” Candy babbled on and shut one of her eyes._

          _“Candy, come on! Snap out of it! You’re not making any sense!” Dipper put a hand on her shoulder._

          _Candy flinched and jerked away from him. She put her hand on her own shoulder as if his touch burned. “This machine is way too dangerous! You have to destroy it or it will bring the end of the world!”_

          _Dipper shook his head. “I can’t destroy this. This is our life’s work!”_

          _Candy stood up. “No. No, I can’t be part of this. We’ve unleashed a horror here, one I’d like to forget. I_ quit! _” She stalked off._

          _Dipper hopped to his feet and glared after his retreating research assistant. “Well, fine! I don’t need you anyway! I’ll get this running on my own, you’ll see!” Whispering hissed in his ear and echoed off the metal walls and slick machines. Dipper jumped. “What? What’s that? Who’s there?”_

          Grunkle Dipper shut his eyes. “I… was in over my head. I feared I was losing my sanity. I called Mabel back early.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Oh, that he did. It came to me late. I had thrown a party for our entire block. So, by the time the mail came in, it had been a day. Not to mention the traffic from the cold. Oregon snows in the winter, you know.”

          _Mabel ruffled through the mail. She picked up a Gravity Fall’s postcard. “Oh! Grenda?” She flipped over the post card. She lost her smile. “PLEASE COME BACK -DIPPER” scrawled on the other side. She shook her head. “Oh no, Dipper. Please don’t tell me…”_

          _Mabel drove through the snow and ice on her pretty pink motorcycle. She bundled up in her heavy winter clothes, which included scarves and goggles that covered her entire face. She looked about. The place wasn’t as neat and orderly as she’d left it. In fact, some wood was splintered and a tall chain link fence decorated with barbed wires ringed the property. She parked the bike next to Dipper’s baby blue car and walked to the door. “What in the…?” She knocked on the door._

          _The door swung open. Dipper held a crossbow and stared at her with wild, feral eyes. Mabel tensed as the bolt touched her forehead. “Who is it?!” Dipper barked. “Have you come to steal my eyes?!”_

          _“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mabel raised her hands in front of her. “Dipper, it’s me! Mabel!”_

          _Dipper lowered the crossbow. “Mabel, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”_

          _Mabel shook her head. “Nope. No one can follow anyone in this weather.” Dipper tossed the crossbow, tore her inside, ripped off her goggles, and shined a flashlight in each of her eyes. Mabel yelped and shoved him. “What the heck?”_

          _“I’m sorry. I had to, uh, make sure… never mind.” Dipper shook his head. “It’s nothing. Come in.”_

          _Mabel shut the door, lowered her hood and scarf, and walked further inside. “Dipper, what’s going on?” Dipper stopped at a doorway and turned around. His navy-blue trench coat fluttered over his feet. When he faced her, she found his plain silver shirt hung over his body a size too big. Bags fell under his eyes. His first journal was clutched in his hands. “Oh my_ God _, Dipper! What happened to you?! Have you been eating? Or sleeping?” She put her hands on his shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”_

          _Dipper pushed away from her. “Look, I- you wouldn’t understand. I made some huge mistakes. I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”_

          _“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Mabel set her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s talk this through, okay? You can trust me.”_

          _“No time. I have to show you something.” Dipper fled the room. Mabel followed him._

          _Soon enough, they’d crossed through the elevator into the control room. “Your portal?” Mabel prompted._

          _Dipper nodded. “Yes. The… the portal.” He walked into the portal room and stopped a few feet in. The door shut behind Mabel without needing to be touched._

          _“I told you it… it can look at other dimensions. Well, it’s a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. It could be used to gain knowledge, as I’d intended, but it could be more easily used to harness horrible destruction. That is why I have hidden my other two journals and shut this thing down.” He held out his first journal. Mabel took it without question. “You’re the only person I can trust to take it. Do you… remember our original plans?”_

          _Mabel nodded. “Yeah. To go hunt down ghosts and stuff across the country and not just in a stuffy little town.”_

          _Dipper took a deep breath. “Good. I need you to take this book and all of your research and drive to the ends of the country, to the end of the continent even. I need you to hide this journal and everything else where no one can find it.”_

          _“That’s_ it _?” Mabel stared at him. “You mean, suddenly you make some mysterious mistake that you won’t even tell me about and now you’re telling me to get as far away from you as possible?” Her words turned from raw hurt into cool anger._

          _“Mabel, you don’t understand what I’m up against!” Dipper countered. “What I’ve been through.”_

          _“I know!” Mabel agreed. “And you won’t even bother to tell me!”_

          _“I_ can’t _, Mabel. I just can’t. Now take that book, and all of the scrapbooks and tapes, and leave!”_

          _“No!” Mabel’s words started to raise in volume. “I’m not! We agreed that it would be us forever. We don’t keep secrets from each other, we help each other out, and we travel together. It’s us forever. And now you come up against an obstacle you can’t overcome and you’re telling me to go away?”_

          _Dipper gulped and stood up straight. “Yes.”_

          _Mabel could hardly breathe. “What?”_

          _“Leave!” Dipper ordered and pointed to the door. “I don’t need you here anymore! Take your stuff and_ go! _”_

          _Mabel’s face contorted as an anger she’d never felt before bloomed inside of her. “FINE! I don’t even care! You traitor- you know what? You want me to get rid of this stupid book? Fine. I’ll take care of it right now.” She took out a kitten lighter._

          _Dipper’s eyes went wide. “No! No, you don’t understand!” He whacked the lighter out of her hand and grabbed the journal._

          _Mabel tore it back. “No! You gave it to me, I’ll do what I want with it.”_

          _“My research!” Dipper cried and lunged at her. The twins hit the floor, hard. The journal slipped out of their grasp and slid across the floor. Dipper, who had landed on top of Mabel, scrambled to his feet. Mabel lay there, stunned, for a moment before she shook it off and grabbed Dipper by the ankle. She yanked him back. The man slipped and fell. Mabel sprang to her feet and snatched the journal. The fight continued from there._

          _The two grew fiercer and fiercer in their battle over the book. Dipper shoved her into a panel of buttons. Mabel pushed him away, causing him to slip and hit a few levers. He lunged at her and took the journal. In an effort to get her away, he set a foot on her chest and, using both his own strength and leverage from the wall behind him, shoved her._

          _Mabel shrieked as a white-hot symbol on the side of the control panel burned through her heavy coat, sweater, shirt, and finally burned into her skin. The agony of the brand and the smell of burning flesh caused her mind to overload. Her focus switched from the book to the indescribable pain in her shoulder. She let go_

          _Dipper let go of her in an instant, though he kept the journal pressed to his chest. “Oh no. No, Mabel, I’m so-” He yelped and put a hand on his nose as she punched him. By the lack of blood running down his face, the hit wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Dipper staggered back and grabbed the lever in front of the yellow and black striped line for support. It cranked down. He let go and fell flat on his back._

          _Mabel, shivering, stalked out of the control room, one hand on her shoulder. Tears of pain and hate blurred her eyes and glinted on her cheeks as the portal’s blinding light caused the room to glow. Dipper looked up at her. He no longer held the hate or delusional paranoia he held just an hour ago. He no longer had that hateful fear for his tormentor. He looked up at her sister with a fresh terror and guilt. He scrambled to his feet but did not move out of her path._

          _“Some brother you are,” Mabel growled at him, her voice cracking. “You care more about your stupid conspiracies than me? Then here! You can_ have them! _” She shoved the book into Dipper’s chest. He stumbled back and began to float. Her fury dulled in the wake of surprise and fear. “Oh no- what? What’s happening? Dipper?!”_

          _“Mabel!” Dipper cried and thrashed in the air like a cat in a tumbling river. “Mabel help!”_

          _Mabel looked about. “What do I do? What do I do?”_

          _“Do something!” Dipper cried and looked back. His trench coat fell into the portal. “Do something, please! Mabel!” He threw Journal One at Mabel. His voice fizzled and drowned as his head was sucked out of their dimension. His body disappeared into the angry swirl. Then, the portal’s light expanded and exploded._

          _Everything went white._

          _Mabel woke up on the floor. The journal lay a foot or so away. Dipper’s blue and white pine tree baseball cap lay a foot away from that. She tried using her shoulder to push herself up but snarled as the overactive, fried nerves in her shoulder burned with every twitch of her muscles. “Dipper?” She looked up. The portal lights were gone. “Dipper?! MASON?!” She hopped up and pounced on the portal. She spun around and yanked the lever. Lights sparked but vanished. “Come back! Please! I didn’t mean to!” she cried and banged her head against the deceptively cool metal._

          _She looked down at the journal and flipped through it. “Continued on Vol 2” marked the last page._

           “I lost him,” Mabel explained. “I left to tell our parents the good news and I came back and pushed my brother into some insane portal. I… I didn’t know where he was. If he was in some distant galaxy or world or if he was even alive. I knew that his journal had to have the answers. I’d get him back, some way or the other.” Mabel’s gaze grew hard as she stared at the ground. “I wasn’t letting him slip away from me. I didn’t know what was happening or how it happened. My own notes didn’t do me good at all.”

          _Mabel ran upstairs, grunting and wheezing and holding her shoulder in a vice grip with one hand and Dipper’s first journal in her other. She scrambled to her room and shuffled through her things. Once she located one of her scrapbooks, she flipped through it. There was no memory of a portal or machine of that caliber in her notes and pictures, but she checked through them all, anyway. She grabbed every tape relevant to the time and stuck them in their TV._

           “I… didn’t get much sleep that night. Or the night after. I hardly got to eat as I studied those stupid films. A few days later, it occurred to me that Candy should know the answer.”

          _Mabel picked up the house phone and dialed in Candy’s number. The phone rang a few times. It kept ringing. Eventually, the ringing stopped. It was replaced by an annoying buzz that marked the failure of the call. She typed in the number a few more times. Each time ended in the same result._

          _Mabel, determined, threw her hood, scarf, and goggles back on. She hopped up on her pink motorcycle and drove into town. The icy winter air stung her shoulder as she hadn’t covered up the raw wound. Candy’s apartment was locked. Mabel knocked on the door and called, “Candy? Candy, are you here?”_

          _No response._

          _Mabel stayed huddled by the door. Every few minutes, she’d knock again. Finally, after two hours of nothing happening, Mabel got up and picked the lock on the door. “I’m coming in, anyway!” The small apartment was empty. One of Tate’s stuffed animals lay on the ground near the doorway. “Oh, no. Please… don’t let them be hurt!” Mabel whined and ran through the apartment, upturning everything and putting it back in its place. Candy and Tate weren’t there. Mabel stalked through the door, locking it as she went._

          Grauntie Mabel admitted. “I tried for weeks to get that portal open. I studied every piece of research we had. I tried to call Candy. I even called her husband. Her husband was just as worried as I was. Tate was with him, not her. Even her apartment was evicted. Ugh. Without the other two journals, and without Candy, trying to open the portal was useless. Eventually, I ran out of food. I had no choice but to go into town again.”

          _Mabel, shabby and disheveled and wearing her patched hoodie tight over her, walked to the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store. A few teens were dancing to some awful music outside._

          _Mabel eventually picked out a loaf of bread and set it on the counter. Ma looked at the bread and then turned to Mabel. “Just the bread, then, there, stranger? That’ll be ninety-nine cents.” Mabel dug through her pockets and then bit her tongue. Oh, right. She spent the last of her money on decorations for the block party._

          _“Hey, that’s no stranger!” Someone from the crowd piped up. Mabel turned around. “You’re that mysterious science guy that lives in the woods!”_

          _A crowd gathered and started murmuring. Mabel bit her lip and tensed. She wore a hood for a reason. She loved the people, she did, but she couldn’t talk, not now, not when she sounded crazy and still didn’t have an excuse as to why Dipper wasn’t there._

          _“Uh, no!” Mabel shook her head. “No, that’s not me. I’m not him.”_

          _The crowd seemed to recognize the feminine pitch in her rough, dry-throat croak._

          _Still, Thompson Determined nodded. “I’ve heard strange things about that old shack.”_

          _“Yeah!” Blubbs agreed. He, in a “training employee” shirt walked up to the front of the crowd. “Mystery lights and spooky experiments!”_

          _“Gosh!” Pa exclaimed from behind the counter. “I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up to in there.”_

          _Blubbs smiled. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give any tours?”_

          _“No! No, really I…” Mabel stuttered and then looked down at her hand. A sugar packet and a paper clip was in her gloved hand. She put on a small smile and pulled down her hood. “Actually! Yes, I think I can.”_

          _“Mabel?” the word passed through the crowd._

          _Mabel nodded. “Yep! That’s me! My, uh, science partner isn’t here right now. So, I wouldn’t mind giving tours to a few generous people. Uh… ten- nah, fifteen dollars a person!”_

          _The crowd cheered and took out cash._

          _Mabel led them through a cramped room in the house. Although she kept her smile, she glanced about._ ‘Darnit, Dipper,’ _she thought to herself._ ‘Why’d you dig this up from the attic? What is this stuff?’ _She gestured around the place. “Welcome to a world of enchantment! Hehe. Pretty neat, right? Behold! An electric box with perpetually sparking wires.” She presented a small box with two antennae. Electricity jumped between the tips._

          _Susan leaned down to get a better look and then gasped as electricity burned her eye. “Ah! My eye!”_

          _“Oh! I’m s- that’s in no way permanent,” Mabel stated. “Really.”_

          _Susan grumbled and put a hand on her eye. “I spent fifteen dollars on this?” The crowd behind her muttered in agreement._

          _“No! Uh, yes, but no.” She looked about and turned around. She put a funny sweater and glasses on a skeleton and presented it to the crowd. “Well, you’re lucky you weren’t part of the last group! They didn’t make it out alive! Oooh!” The crowd chuckled._

          _Susan let go of her eye. “That’s pretty funny.”_

          Mabel went on, her voice still solemn, “So, I came up with a plan. I couldn’t leave this shack until I figured out how to save Dipper. But I needed to pay the mortgage somehow. I couldn’t really juggle tailoring, which wasn’t actually too stable a job, with this. So, the Murder Hut began! It was later renamed the Mystery Shack. I mean, who likes ‘Murder Hut’? Heh. By day, I was Mabel Pines, Ms. Mystery! By night, I was down in the basement, trying to bring Dipper back. I… couldn’t risk anyone learning about my mission and sabotaging it. So, I lied to everyone. My parents, your parents, you guys- everyone. Dipper was supposedly in the basement most of the time. I was his sort of secretary since he didn’t want to be bothered by junk calls. I gave people bits and pieces of our combined research if they needed it. If they needed to see me in person, I would do a quick attire change with some make-up. I even used those shrinky-growy crystals to make myself taller- kinda permanently because I didn’t feel like changing sizes all the time. No one could tell the difference, not even our parents. For some reason, Dipper and I rarely stayed in the same room. One of us was later for some reason or another if we needed to be somewhere. They took it as us having a fight, which was partially true. Though, sometimes, I’d take out the ol’ printer and duplicate myself.”

          She rubbed her arm. “But, uh… there was one more thing. I wasn’t a scientist. I still needed to get materials, to get knowledge. So, I… made some fake IDs and traveled around a bit to search for what I needed without taking it under my own name.”

          Stanford looked up at her. “So, then, when you said Great Uncle Dipper was out ghost hunting in Brazil…”

           “…you were lying?” Stanley prompted. “But… what? You’re a terrible liar!”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled at him. “I also don’t believe in the paranormal and think your father was the cutest kid as a baby.”

          Fiddleford looked up at her. “All this time, you were just tryin’ to save your brother?”

          Stanford shook his head. “I’m sorry, Grauntie Mabel. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

           “That’s okay, Hun-bun. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

          Upstairs, a voice barked, “I heard talking! It was coming from downstairs!”

           “Oh no!” Grauntie Mabel gasped. “It’s too late!”

          Stanford tensed. “What do we do?”

          Stanley groaned. “Ugh! I was so distracted by your awesome story I forgot they were here!”

          Fiddleford perked up. “Forgot. Hey, forget! That’s it!” He dug through his backpack and plucked the memory gun from it. “This!”

          Stanford gave him a flat look. “Why do you still have that?”

          Grunkle Dipper sucked in his breath. “A memory gun! Where did you- later. This is perfect.” He took the gun from Fiddleford and looked it over. “If I could just amplify it and signal it to radio headset frequencies…” He ran to the wall and plugged some wires into the gun. He looked through a periscope. “…there. Now, everyone! Get down and plug your ears!” Grunkle Dipper commanded and put his hands over his ears. Everyone else in the room ducked and clamped their hands over their ears.

 

          Above them, agents swarmed the house. Agent Powers and Agent Trigger stood at the doorway. Agent Trigger announced, “Sir! Looks like there’s a hidden door behind the vending machine!”

           “Excellent!” Agent Powers smiled. “Get me on Washington on Line One! I’ve been practicing sounds of excitement for this very occasion. Hey, do you hear that?” The eyes on the top of the totem pole flashed. A sound wave passed over the Mystery Shack and the yard around it. The agents clapped their hands over their ears and doubled over. Inside of the Shack, more agents and some people in radiation suits gathered near the door, clamped their hands over their ears. One person shut the vending machine as they leaned on it.

          Once the commotion died down and the noise was gone, the agents let go and looked around. Agent Powers looked around. “What? Where am I? Why am I standing in front of some sort of goofy fun knick-knack house?”

          Grunkle Dipper strode out of the house and stopped on the porch. He held a few papers in his hands. “Stand down, gentlemen!” He called their attention. “I’ve been sent with the latest intel from Washington.” He flipped through a few of Stanford’s drawings. “According to this report, the power surges in Gravity Falls were actually due to radiation from an unreported meteor shower.” He clicked is tongue. “A total disgrace and embarrassment for your whole department.” He straightened the papers and looked at Agent Powers. “Luckily, I’m here to take this mess off your hands. But I’ll need all of your… floppy disks and a-trax, right?”

          Agent Powers, still dazed, stated. “Uh, everything about this case is contained on this drive.” Agent Trigger held out a flash drive labeled “PINES”.

          Grunkle Dipper wrapped his hand around it. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get out of here before I have you court-martialed!”

          Agent Powers shook his head. “Uh, yes sir. Apologies, sir.” He whistled and waved his hand. “False alarm, everyone!” On the way back to his car, he tripped and stumbled.

          Once the government agents were gone, Grunkle Dipper knelt and held out the flash drive. Gompers bleated, took it in his mouth, and bounced off. The goat stopped by Stanford once he left the house with Stanley, Fiddleford, and Grauntie Mabel.

          Stanley laughed, “That was so cool, Great Uncle Mason! You gotta teach me to do that!”

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Ah, thank you. But you can just call me Dipper.”

          Stanford grinned. “Sure! Thanks, Grunkle Dipper. So, uh,” Stanford took his pen out from behind his ear and took out a notebook. “-would you mind answering a few million questions about Gravity Falls?”

          Grunkle Dipper shifted his weight. “Uh, well, I…”

           “Not now,” Grauntie Mabel finished. “You kids need your rest. It’s been a pretty hectic day. My brother and I have a lot to talk about. Why don’t you kids go ahead and hit the hay?”

          Stanford frowned. “But Grauntie Mabel, he’s the _author!_ I’ve been waiting so long to–”

           “That wasn’t a request,” Grauntie Mabel cut in. “Go catch some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I’ll drive you home tomorrow, Fiddle.”

          Stanford sighed and put away his notebook, “Okay.” The three boys walked back into the house and shut the door behind them.

*          *          *          *          *

          Mabel and Dipper stood downstairs. Night had fallen over the valley. The two stared at their reflections- or, rather, each other’s reflections. Dipper was noticeably different. Gone was the straggly, sleep deprived, malnourished man Mabel had seen last. He was fuller and stockier. He hadn’t grown much taller, but his muscles did seem to have grown tighter and thicker. It was hard to tell under the black, battle garb he wore, though. Mabel’s gaze traveled to his navy-blue trench coat. It was torn and there were patches that needed stitching, but it was otherwise the same trench coat he’d worn when he was thrown into the portal- all the way down to the silver pine tree stitched on one shoulder.

          Mabel didn’t look all too different, save for the lines of age and laughter etched into her skin. Her pink sweater with an elaborate gold key had the Mabel flare. Her long purple shirt and neat black shoes and pink headband were all the same. Even now, thirty years after their separation and thirty years of worry, she still had that wonder-filled, joyous spark laced with mischief in her deep brown eyes.

          Mabel chuckled. “When did we become old?”

           “You look like Mom,” Dipper commented, a slight smile coming to his lips.

           “Nice of you to say, Dad,” Mabel agreed and elbowed him.

          Dipper put a hand on his shoulder. His smile faded. “Look, Mabel. I know we need to talk but…”

           “We can’t. Not right now,” Mabel agreed. “Because you need to take a shower. Do they have showers in the dimension you were in?”

           “My God, Mabel!” Dipper complained.

           “I’m serious! You stink. You need a good shower. Now that you’ve got new admirers, you need to look and act your best. Have you eaten today? Or slept? I need to get a nice meal in you and you can take back your bed.”

           “Calm down!” Dipper raised his hands. “I’m tired, okay?”

          Mabel nodded. “I get it. You… you’re going to talk to me in the morning, right? You’re not going to let this blow over?”

          Dipper bit his tongue and looked back at the mirror. “Mabel, I don’t think- oof!” Dipper gasped as Mabel wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He tensed and then, ever so slowly, relaxed. Mabel resisted a cough as she buried her face in his dusty chest. Her own body tensed and shivered. One edge of his trench coat brushed her ear. His silver turtleneck was less rough than his torn trench coat, but it was still worn and injured. Dipper didn’t seem to mind the dampness that swelled on the chest of his dirty turtleneck. Dipper wrapped his arms around her in a hug and shut his eyes. “I know.”

*          *          *          *          *

          Stanley stepped away from the door. A confused, sad look passed over him. “I… don’t get it.”

           “Are they not mad at each other?” Stanford prompted.

          Stanley shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, it doesn’t sound like it. I didn’t know Mabel could be mad at anyone.”

           “I don’t think she’s mad,” Stanford agreed. “But… how do we feel? What am I supposed to feel? The author walks through a mysterious portal that Mabel’s been keeping a secret for thirty years? She never even told us that the paranormal was real!”

          Fiddleford, sitting next to Stanford, nodded. “She really didn’t. But it’s not because she doesn’t trust ya. She just doesn’t want ya gettin’ hurt. You two got in plenty a’ trouble on your own.”

          Stanley sat down on his bed across from them. “Yeah, I guess. This is just so _weird…_ ”

          Stanford turned to Fiddleford. “So, why did you have that memory gun?”

           “Huh?” Fiddleford sat up straight.

           “You had the memory gun. Why? Were you planning on using it?” Stanford prompted.

          Fiddleford sighed. “It’s complicated, but… but Ah didn’t want anyone hurt. Ah don’t know too much about the sit’ation, but Ah do know that you three love each other. Ah don’t want anythin’ changin’ that. Ah don’t want to see Mrs. Pines taken away by the government, either.”

           “You were planning to erase the government people’s minds all along, weren’t you?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Mhm.”

           “Dude,” Stanley started. “You’ve never gone against what an adult tells you to do, much less attack the government.”

           “Family is more important than any law, Stanley, and loyalty is better than any virtue. You know that.” Fiddleford kicked his feet. “So. What happens now?”

           “I don’t know.” Stanford looked at his hands.

           “I guess we’ll have to wait for morning,” Stanley suggested and then lay down. “Now turn off the light. I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

           “Sure.” Stanford shut off the light and then rolled over so that he was lying by the wall. Fiddleford yawned and lay down next to him. He drew up the blankets over them both.

          Stanley opened one eye and, once he was sure the two had fallen into the deep of sleep, picked up a camera. By this time, Stanford had rolled over and now draped an arm over Fiddleford. Fiddleford, who had once been twitching, fell still.

          _Click._

 

NRGYRZ PSSXUSWG, ZGREICQD XIGGRFW, LZD KO **P** DIGMNQD D **C** IQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so stoked to write this chapter. It was really fun and I love diverging from canon so much. Dipper and Mabel just aren't made of the same stuff Stan and _vigenère_ Ford were made of. Stanford's egotistical, selfish, and keeps to himself. Stanley is sporadic, selfish, and stubborn. Dipper sacrifices quite a bit for his sister and understands her. Mabel can get caught up in her own thing, but when she really sits and thinks _masonmabel_ about it, she knows where her heart lies. Besides, Stanley solves things with punching. *cough*pterodactyl*cough* Mabel (usually) doesn't. *cough*Celestabellabethabell*cough*  
>  Fun facts!  
> Fun fact: I originally wrote Dipper to be tough and hide his emotions very well. He was called Mason and he couldn't stand his sister. But instead of calling her selfish, he calls her childish and refusing to grow up.  
> Fun fact: In the original copy, Mabel was thrown out. She got married and had a kid. When she refused to stay in wherever-the-hell they lived with her husband and instead go to Oregon to visit her brother, her husband divorced her. He was afraid she would turn out like Candy. He didn't want that near him or the baby. Hence the "Mrs." in her name. In this version, she just got married after college.  
> Fun Fact: "I thought being a great man meant being alone. Apart from the crowd. I bristled at the idea of sharing my accomplishments with anyone. I shunned my brother for one dumb mistake, and I shunned Fiddleford for having the sense to try and stop me from dooming the world." ~Journal Three, Stanford's 2nd to last entry.  
> Fun Fact: "I mean, who would sacrifice everything they've worked for just for their dumb sibling?" "...Dipper would." ~Season 2, Episode 4 "Sock Opera", Bipper and Mabel  
> Fun fact: "Gosh we've never really been apart before." "And isn't it _suffocating?_ Dipper, can you honestly tell me you've never felt like you were meant for something more?" ~Season Two, Episode Seventeen "Dipper and Mabel versus the Future", Dipper and Stanford  
>  Fun fact: Last moment with Fiddle and Ford was inspired by this: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/cb/ca/40/cbca40b87c17c970fdecc1a31986c0c5.jpg "I'll do it. But first..." *take a picture* "Boys hugging makes every yearbook funny." ~Sam Manson, "Danny Phantom" Season 1, Episode 3 "One of a Kind".  
> Fun Fact: No demons were summoned, but this was just too cute not to pass up and was part of the reason "Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained" started this chapter off rather than exploring Piedmont like Stans did Glass Shard Beach: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/6d/10/26/6d102691bf1ffe7c288fdc9016c328e8.jpg then https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/01/b0/46/01b046a266c70e0084388e7e4b3f111b.jpg then https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/96/a6/1e/96a61ed19273bcb52c8be48010ec3cdd.jpg and finally https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/34/15/49/34154925d546e500d2a5801172503af0.jpg


	10. Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The portal is broken and so is the house. The stories have been told, and the kids put to rest. It's time to take on another day in Gravity Falls.

          The Mystery Shack, broken and impaled by a fallen tree, barely kept itself standing. A sign stating “TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR REPAIRS” was nailed to a tree just outside of it. Within the Shack, five people sat at the kitchen table. The morning sun glowed over the table laced with pancakes, syrup, sprinkles, powdered sugar, and drinks.

          Grauntie Mabel sat beside her brother, the man whom they’d seen walk out of another dimension. He was in different attire than when he stepped into their world. Instead of black clothes and tight bandages, he had a navy-blue trench coat that needed repairing, a silver turtleneck that needed attention from both a sewing machine and a washing machine, and long pants that ran down to his muddy shoes. However, he was much cleaner and much less tired than he looked after coming out of the portal.

          For a while, an awkward silence fell over breakfast. Stanford, sitting between Stanley and Fiddleford, forced himself not to stare at the author. Yet it was so hard to do. _The author is sitting right across from me._ Stanford struggled to put away that thought, but it stuck to him worse than superglue. _And he’s your great uncle!_

           “So!” Grauntie Mabel broke the silence. “Now that everyone is rested up and everyone’s had at least two or three bites of their meal, let’s get some things out of the way. Dipper, this is Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford. Stanley and Stanford are our nephews- Tyrone’s grandsons. Fiddleford is a mechanic. He’s been working at the Mystery Shack for five years now. Kids, this is the author of the journals, my brother, and my partner in crime. I’m still Mabel Pines and I helped author a few scrapbooks and bounced ideas for his writing.”

           “So,” Stanley started. “You helped write the journals.”

           “Some of them! Namely the first,” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

           “But you wrote them.” Stanley looked at Grunkle Dipper.

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yes.” He cleared his throat of the scratchiness that dragged at his words. “Sorry, yes. I did.” He took a swig of coffee.

           “An’ you were partners with Mrs. Chiu?” Fiddleford asked.

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yes, indeed. We’ve been friends since high school when Mabel introduced her to me.”

           “Where were you in the portal?” Stanford blurted out. He gasped and bit his tongue.

          A small, uncomfortable silence tailed the words. “Um… it’s best not to talk about that. I’ve been in other dimensions. That’s all you need to know.”

          Stanford kicked his feet under the table. “Okay.”

           “Did you bring anything cool back form the other dimensions?” Stanley prompted. “Did you get any really cool space guns?”

           “Yes.” Grunkle Dipper tensed. “But I’m most definitely not taking them out. They’re highly dangerous weapons.”

          Grauntie Mabel piped up, “And that reminds me! I don’t want any of you playing too rough, okay?” She gave a pointed look at Stanley. “Don’t sneak up on him.”

           “What? Why’d I do that?” Stanley held his hands up in front of himself and smiled.

          Grauntie Mabel elbowed Dipper. “He’s a little prankster.”

           “Like you?” Grunkle Dipper raised an eyebrow.

           “ _Way_ worse.”

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled and relaxed a bit, though he still looked quite tense.

          Stanley grinned. “You pranked Grunkle Dipper?”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Well, not _pranked_ , really. I just snuck up on him and yelled loudly. Or surprise-hugged him. Both were pretty much hilarious.”

           “And heart attack inducing!” Grunkle Dipper scoffed.

          Stanford piped up, “You’ve been studying everything in Gravity Falls?”

           “For six years before falling into the portal,” Grunkle Dipper agreed.

           “ _Wow!_ ” Stanford breathed. “Can you teach me? Er- us? Sometime?”

          Grunkle Dipper put a hand to the back of his neck. “Look, I’m- well…”

           “You can borrow my scrapbooks and our tapes for a while,” Grauntie Mabel suggested.

          Grunkle Dipper swallowed. “Yes. Yes, that sounds appropriate. But understand, children, that no matter your enthusiasm, I cannot allow you to mess with, or inquire about, my work.” He tangled and untangled his fingers in each other on the table. “Mabel has been telling me about how you kids are very intelligent and superb in your interests. But you’re still twelve and thirteen.”

          Stanley kicked his feet under the table. “So… I’m guessing you won’t tell us about your adventures?”

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “No. And, I must also say that I will be spending most of my time in the basement for now. I will be containing and, hopefully, repairing any remaining damage.”

           “He’ll be here for meals,” Grauntie Mabel soothed. “Don’t you worry. And for bed. I’m not letting him stay in that lab all hours of the day.”

           “You look more pent up than Fiddleford in the woods!” Stanley pointed out. “Why do you have to stay in that basement all day?” Fiddleford glared at Stanley, who snickered.

           “I don’t understand?” Grunkle Dipper blinked. “If you’re implying I’m too tense, then… perhaps. But that’s not important. What’s important is that I contain any remaining damage.” He glanced at his watch.

          Grauntie Mabel put her hand on his watch. “Ah-ah! At least eat your breakfast, first.”

           “Right, right,” Grunkle Dipper sighed and continued eating his soggy pancakes.

          Hardly a few minutes later, Grunkle Dipper was gone.

 

          Days later, within the Mystery Shack, Grauntie Mabel read the newspaper by the cash register. Stanley lay on the ground half asleep with an empty bag of Cheese Boodles on his face. Stanford sat on a barrel near the cash register, studying Journal Two. Gompers slept by his feet.

          Stanley took a deep breath and blew the package away. He watched it drift lazily to the ground. “I just ate an entire bag of Cheese Boodles without using my hands. Lazy Tuesday, you are delivering in a _big_ way!” Stanley exclaimed.

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and glanced down at him. “Yep. It’s nice to have a day where nothing at all happens.”

          The vending machine swung open with a _bwoooosh!_ Grunkle Dipper, a cycloptipus on one of his gloved hands, shook his arm in an attempt to dislodge the enraged creature. Stanford and Stanley yelled in fright and backed off. Gompers bolted. “Everyone get down!” Grunkle Dipper ordered. “Don’t let it taste human flesh!” He punched it. The creature spasmed as if shocked and flopped to the ground. It recovered instantly and skittered away.

           “What is that?” Stanford jumped up and nearly knocked over the paper rack as he used it to get off the ground and avoid the creature.

          Stanley yelled and attempted to kick it. “Kill it!”

          Grauntie Mabel watched it scramble over the cash register. “Ooooh! Can we keep it?”

          The creature flopped onto the wood and scooted away. Grunkle Dipper, seemingly ignoring everyone and nearly bumping into his sister as he hopped onto the counter and launched himself off, chased the critter wherever it went. Finally, the thing found itself in a corner and backed up. The trio watched as Grunkle Dipper, hands up in front of him and movements slow, stalked toward the creature. “Patience…” he breathed. “Patience…”

          The creature’s eye rolled back and a mouth lined with teeth opened in a shriek. Grunkle Dipper immediately dove and grabbed it. Blue lines over his gloves glowed as he shocked the creature. Finally, Grunkle Dipper picked it up by one of its tentacles and held it up. He looked over the defeated creature, and then grinned.

          Grauntie Mabel wrinkled her nose at horrid stench that followed the electricity-burned creature. “Ugh! What the heck? Did Death just barf or something?”

          Grunkle Dipper didn’t answer her. Instead, he walked back to the vending machine.

          Stanford followed him to the vending machine and held up Journal Two. It was on the page concerning the cycloptipus. “Great Uncle Dipper! Do you need any help with that? I’ve read all about these creatures in your journal and I think–”

           “No.” Grunkle Dipper interrupted and held up a hand. Stanford stopped speaking. Dipper moved his head back to look at Stanford. “Stanford, this creature is dangerous. Like I said, I cannot allow you to mess with the stuff I am studying.” He looked down at the injured thing in his hand. With that, he pressed a button on his wrist to shut the vending machine door.

          Stanford moved his head to watch him go. “Maybe next time?” he offered. The vending machine shut. Stanford lost his tentative smile. “Or not.”

          Grauntie Mabel patted his shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, Fordsy. Like he said, what he’s messing with his very dangerous. We just don’t want you getting hurt.”

          Stanford frowned. “But Grauntie Mabel! I’ve been looking for the author all summer! Now he lives in our basement and we can’t even talk to him?”

           “Don’t worry about what’s in the basement.” Grauntie Mabel waved her hand with a dismissive huff. “You belong up here, with us! Besides, the season finale of Duck-tective is airing this Friday!”

           “Quack with us!” Stanley agreed and quacked like a duck. Grauntie Mabel laughed and, arms at her side like bird wings, tromped about the gift shop, quacking with Stanley. Eventually, Stanley realized that Stanford was not following him. He frowned and halted his own parade. “Why aren’t you quacking?”

 

          Stanley sat in front of the TV. A lined notebook tattered with smudged, stained, or torn out papers and a pencil were in his hands. “We’ve been in Gravity Falls for a few months and it’s crazy how so much as happened! Yesterday, gravity reversed itself, almost destroying the entire town _and_ the universe, and totally wrecked the whole town!” Stanley looked up at the TV, where the news was on.

           “Lazy” Susan stood on the other side of the street from her diner, which was flipped upside down along with a red car. A crane picked up the diner as she spoke. “Well they say it was an earthquake, but you want to know what I think? I think I’m gunna have to start serving pineapple right-side-up cake! Am I right?” She laughed and then thought for a moment. “Am I right?” Her diner fell to the ground.

          The news switched to their mayor, Mayor Befufflefumpter, in front of a crowd near the radio station. “Let the rebuilding of the town begin! Wrecking ball, start wrecking things! Hahaha!” The wrecking ball crashed into the TV tower. The TV hissed as the channel was lost.

          Stanley continued writing. “But the coolest part of the summer was when Grauntie Mabel’s twin brother came out of this giant portal. Now we have a new Grunkle! And he is so cool!”

          Stanford ran into the room, a wrapped box in his arms. “Guess what I found at the store today!”

          Stanley jumped up. “Swords! Pirate swords!”

           “Nope!” Stanford knelt, set the box on the ground, and then opened it. “It’s my favorite fantasy-talking, level-counting, statistics and graph paper-involving game of all time:” he picked up the game box from within and held it up. “Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons!” The navy-blue box held an ogre, a wicked looking sorcerer, and an elf on a unicorn overlooking three people playing a board game with dice and papers. The title was written at the top, with “dungeons” being in gold and “and More” being in dusty maroon. “Want to play with me?”

           “Hmmm…” Stanley inspected the box. “Well… that ogre looks pretty cool. So, does that wizard guy. How do you play?”

           “The rules are simple.” Stanford set down the box and plucked the top off. He held up a simple brown-leather book bordered gold and labeled “RULES Vol. 1” with the name of the game written in a banner above it. He flipped open the book. “Okay. First, you roll a 38-sided die to determine the level of each player’s statistical analysis poweroid. These orbs relate directly to the amount of quadrants that your team has dominion over, which is inverse to the anti-quadrants in your quadrant satchel.”

          The more Stanford spoke, the more skeptical Stanley became. Finally, he prompted, “Then do we fight ogres?”

           “Yes!” Stanford answered. Stanley gasped. “And no.” Stanley frowned at him. “First, we make a graph.” He pulled out a piece of graph paper from inside the box.

           “Ugh!” Stanley groaned. “This is like ‘Homework: The Game’!”

           “Come on!” Stanford set down the box. “I need at least two people to play.”

          Fiddleford walked into the living room just then. Stanley brightened. “Oh, wouldja look at that! Two people!” Stanley grinned and then scampered off.

          Fiddleford watched him go. Stanford prompted, “So, Fidds! Are you up for a game of D and D and More D?”

          Fiddleford looked at the box he held and gasped. “ _Whoa!_ Is that- I haven’t been able to play that game since- I forget!” Fiddleford chuckled.

           “You mean you want to play?”

           “Yeah!”

          Stanley laughed from the living room table. “Nerds!”

 

          Outside, Fiddleford and Stanford had spread out the game. Fiddleford studied the rule book while Stanford checked over their board to make sure everything was in order. Gompers baaed and bounded up to Stanford. “Oh, hey Gompers!” Stanford ruffled the hair on Gompers’ head. The goat baaed again. The light reflected off the blue thirty-eight-sided die that that Stanford held. Quite suddenly, Gompers took the dice in his teeth. “Gompers, no! Drop it!” Stanford gasped and attempted to take the dice away from him. When he finally was able to take it away from him, the dice was thrown out of his hand and tumbled under the porch. “Darnit.”

           “Oh, whoa! Stanford Ah wouldn’t recommend you go under there.” Fiddleford lowered the rule book. “Ah think Ah have a dice like that at home.”

           “Don’t worry, I’ll only be a second.” Stanford flattened himself to ground and crawled under the porch where he knew his dice was. The object lay in a ledge just inside a hole in the foot of the house. Once he squirmed his way over to it, he plucked it away from the ledge and then gasped as the unstable ground gave out from under him. Stanford, screaming in fear and surprise, fell through a few beams of wood before crashing through the roof of Level Three, knocking over a table with the journal, cycloptipus in a jar, and ink and quill, and finally landing on the hard ground. The ink spilled everywhere. The journal tumbled over to the wall where the dice landed on top of its open pages. The glass jar’s top shattered, leaving the unconscious creature free. Still dazed from whatever had been done to him recently, the creature didn’t move or wake.

          Stanford shook himself off and grabbed his dice from the floor. He looked up at the hole in the ceiling. Great. How was he supposed to get out, now? Grunkle Dipper probably changed the code to the elevator and it wasn’t as if Stanford was overly eager to ask his great uncle for the password. He’d probably just snap at him for being dumb, which he was.

           “Stanford! Stop!” Stanford jumped and spun around. The cycloptipus squirmed further into the jar, its wide eye staring up at the man who’d captured it. Grunkle Dipper, hands behind his back, walked out from the shadow of his desk to stop before him.

           “Great Uncle Dipper!” Stanford gasped.

           “What did I tell you about coming down here?” Grunkle Dipper stated, his voice now stern. “My work is far too dangerous for- wait! Is that a… thirty-eight-sided die from Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons?” From the first time since Stanford had seen him, Grunkle Dipper’s sported a look other than one of tension, discomfort, or timid amusement.

          Encouraged, Stanford nodded. “Y-yeah! You know that game?”

          Grunkle Dipper put a hand to his chest and looked into the distance. “With pen and paper, shield and sword…”

          Stanford joined in. “Our quest shall be our sweet reward!”

          Grunkle Dipper laughed. “This is my favorite game in the whole multiverse! I can’t believe they still make it.”

           “They do!” Stanford agreed. “A-and I’ve been looking for people to play it with Fidds and me!”

          Dipper got down on one knee, a sudden seriousness falling over him. “Do you know what this means? We must stop everything I’ve been working on at once… and play!” Grunkle Dipper grinned.

          The cycloptipus lunged at Grunkle Dipper and latched onto the side of his head. Grunkle Dipper, not looking at all fearful or in pain, took the creature off his head. “That is going to leave a mark.”

 

          Stanley held up a case with Duck-tective on it. He looked over the table of snacks and sodas. “Okay. That’s probably everythin’!”

           “Yep!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “We’ve got everything we need to watch the season finale of Duck-tective tomorrow.”

          Stanley held up a box of popcorn and chips. “And I made a box to hold snacks in, so we don’t even have to look away from the screen!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and pulled out a creepy headless beaver with a turkey head stapled to it and a hat glue on. “I even recreated him out of spare taxidermy parts! ‘Quack, quack! Who stole my bread loaf?’”

          Stanley laughed. “Ha! That’s messed _up!_ Ford would love that!”

           “Heh. Yeah, where is the little guy, anyway?” Grauntie Mabel looked around. “I haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

 

          In the basement, Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Fiddleford all gathered around a game board. Grunkle Dipper had set a cardboard fold out of the wizard surrounded by blue flames in a dungeon. Grunkle Dipper, moving the dice around his fingers, stated, “Alright. You’ve entered the chamber. Princess Unatainabelle beckons you.” He looked between the two boys. “But WAIT! It’s a trap!” He held up his hands as he did so. The boys gasped. “An illusion cast by Probabilitor the Annoying.”

          Stanford, dice clutched in his hands, smiled. “You know his weakness, right?”

          Grunkle Dipper and Stanford spoke in unison. “Prime-statistical anomalies over thirty-seven but not exceeding fifty-one!” They both dropped the dice in their hand and let them clatter onto the board.

           “Yes!” Stanford hissed. “Take that you cardboard wizard!”

          Grunkle Dipper picked up the picture of Probabilitor. “Heh. The old boy looks a bit different than he did back in my day.”

          Stanford nodded. “Mm, yeah. They change the art every few years. Thankfully you missed the period when the creators of the game tried to make it _‘cooler’._ ” Stanford held up his hands in air quotes.

           “Right,” Fiddleford agreed. “When they changed out the colors and made Probabilitor into Probabilatizle, the rapper?”

          Stanford nodded. “Egh. Must have been a dark time, those nineties.”

           “Yeesh! Sounds like a great time to be stuck between dimensions!” Grunkle Dipper chuckled.

           “Great Uncle Dipper, I’ve been meaning to ask you:” Stanford put down the red card he’d picked up and looked up at him. “Where were you before you came out of that machine? What have you been doing down here?” He glanced at the curtain. “Are you working on something behind that curtain?”

          Grunkle Dipper’s smile left him. He sighed, “Look, Stanford, it’s best if you and the family stay away from that subject.” He looked at Fiddleford to make sure he heard him and then continued, “Honestly… I’m not sure any of you could handle to the real answer.”

           “But I could-” Stanford started.

           “Ah-ah!” Grunkle Dipper held up a finger to quiet him. A sly smile crept up on him. “I _can_ show you a little something I brought back with me.” He took out a bag and dumped it out. Dice of various shapes fell out as did a small, black box. He held it up so that the both of them could see and opened it. “An infinity-sided die.” Inside of the case, held snuggly in a fitted red velvet interior, was a light blue orb. The sides constantly shifted and changed in shape and size and the symbols constantly shifted.

           “Whoa!” Stanford breathed. “That’s so cool!”

           “And impossible!” Fiddleford agreed.

           “These things are outlawed in nine thousand different dimensions!” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “You want to know why? Look at those symbols.” He pointed to the constantly shifting symbols. “Infinite signs means infinite outcomes. If I tossed it, anything could happen. Our faces could melt into jelly. The world could turn into an egg. Or you could roll an eight.” He shrugged and shut the case. “That’s why I keep it in this protective, cheap plastic case.” He patted it and set it down beside him. “Now back to the game! You’ve got Probabilitor on the ropes!”

 

          That night, Stanley lay in his bed, bundled up and staring at the wall by his bed. Stanford lay on the floor of their bedroom, a lantern lit on the floor beside him and graph paper before him. Stanford constantly mumbled under his breath. “Then if I put a dragon here and a plus three fire mode–”

           “Ugh!” Stanley groaned and sat up. Stanford stopped and looked up at him. “You’ve been speaking nerd words for _hours!_ Are you ever going to go to sleep?”

           “I will. I just need to finish this dungeon.” Stanford looked back at the graph paper he was writing on. “It’s going to _totally_ stump Great Uncle Dipper tomorrow. I can’t wait to see the look on his face!”

          Stanley kicked his legs off the bed. “You’re, uh… spending a lot of time with ol’ Dipper, huh?”

          Stanford nodded. “Mhm. You have _no_ idea! I knew the author must be amazing, but he’s better than I imagined!” Stanford exclaimed. His smile faltered a bit. “Besides, he doesn’t make fun of me and actually _likes_ stuff like this.”

          Stanley put his feet back on the bed. “Yeah, you got me there.” He lay down and threw his blanket over himself again. “You got me.”

 

          Stanley and Nick, donned in detective hats, stood at the doorway. Stanley held his snack box and Nick held a stuffed animal and a flag. Stanley grinned. “Thanks for coming over to watch tonight’s Duck-tective finale, Nick!”

          Nicolas nodded. “Of course! I’m so invested in this show!” He squeezed the duck toy, causing it to squeak.

          Grauntie Mabel, dressed up in a yellow Duck-tective sweater and her pink shooting-star fez, joined them by the door. “Hey-hey!”

           “Hey!” Stanley greeted. “Man, it’s going to be a _big_ night!” His gaze turned sullen. “I think we remember where we were when we learned Duck-tective was shot.”

          The grandfather clock nearby chimed.

           “Everyone! In positions!” Stanley cried, held up his box, and lead them to the living room. Before they could get through the threshold, they stopped and gasped. Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Fiddleford sat in the center of the living room. Papers were scattered and pinned everywhere.

           “Graph paper!” Nick gasped and stomped on it. “Kill it!”

          Stanley looked at his twin brother. “Ford, could you move this to another room?”

           “No dice,” Grunkle Dipper denied. “We ran out of room in the basement and we’re going for a world record! Now _dice!”_ He threw the blue, thirty-eight-sided die. It landed thirty-two up. “A-ha! Thirty-two! Seven-thousand damage!”

           “You got me!” Stanford laughed.

          The trio wanting to watch TV groaned. Grauntie Mabel stared down at her brother, hands on her hips. “Come on, bro! You want to break a record? How about one for ‘World’s Nerdiest Old Man’?”

          Grunkle Dipper crossed his arms. “Hey! At least _I’m_ not all keyed up to watch a kid’s show!”

          Grauntie Mabel recoiled. “I’ll have you know that Duck-tective has a big mystery element! And a lot of jokes that go over kids’ heads!”

           “I don’t get a lot of it,” Nick admitted. “But I do like animals in human situations.”

           “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley complained. “It starts in a few minutes!”

          Grauntie Mabel huffed and stalked toward the TV. She reached over to grab a paper. Grunkle Dipper was up in a flash and grabbed her wrist. The bag with his infinity sided die was in his other hand. “Don’t you dare.”

           “I will dare,” Grauntie Mabel countered and then smirked. She tore her hand out of Grunkle Dipper’s grasp. “What are you goin’ to do about it? Sick a level nine dragon on me?”

          Grunkle Dipper glared at her. “Don’t mock our fantastical creature and battle system!”

           “I’ll mock all I want,” she stated. “It’s _my_ TV room!”

           “It’s my house!” Grunkle Dipper snapped and then took a deep breath. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe if you joined us, you might have fun?”

          Grauntie Mabel snatched the bag of dice away from him and held it up. “Do you honestly think I would ever…”

          Stanford jumped to his feet. “Grauntie Mabel, wait!”

           “-ever…!”

           “Mrs. Pines!” Fiddleford gasped.

           “-play your nerdy, smarty-pants game!” She chucked the bag on the floor.

           “NO!” Grunkle Dipper yelped.

          Multiple dice rolled out of it. The plastic case holding the infinity-sided die burst open. They watched as the dice rolled onto floor and eventually stop. The lid of the board game crackled with electricity as a spark arced from the die to the box. The silhouette of a robed person holding a staff appeared on the top section of the dice. The box shuttered and from it burst a group of people and creatures. At the very front was Probabilitor, wielding a staff that had a glowing thirty-eight-sided die at the top. The elven archer stood at his right along with a large griffon. To his right stood an ogre.

          The wizard cried, “Mortals of dimension forty-six-apostrophe-back-slash, kneel before me and…” He threw a dice on the ground. “Snivel!”

          The kids took a step back, their eyes wide in terror. Fiddleford attempted to hide behind Stanford, who just stared at the group of characters in disbelief.

           “I am Probabilitor! The greatest wizard in all of mathology!” he announced and then waved his hand like a level. “Give or take an error of zero-point-four.”

           “Um… is this normal?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. She took Stanley and Stanford, who held onto Nick and Fiddleford, by the shoulders and backed off. Grunkle Dipper took a few steps back as well.

          Stanford gave him a nervous, hopeful smile. “Have you come to send us on the quest of a lifetime because we’re the smartest players you’ve ever met?”

           “You _are_ the smartest players I’ve ever met!” Probabilitor agreed and then pointed his staff at each person individually. “That’s why I’m going to eat your brains to gain your intelligence.” He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

           “It’s his thing!” the ogre agreed.

           “ _WHAT?!_ ” Stanford gasped.

           “Seize them!” Probabilitor commanded.

          Grunkle Dipper’s ray gun was in his hands in an instant. “Don’t you _dare!_ Your math is no match for my gun, fool!”

           “Math ray!” Probabilitor cried and pointed his staff at them. A bright blue ray littered with numbers, letters, and symbols, broke through the living room and front door. Gompers and Waddles, who had been on the porch, fled. Everyone who was inside of the living room ducked out of fire.

          Grunkle Dipper, who was attempting to get to his feet, was snatched by the back of his trench coat by the ogre. Stanford was taken from behind the T-Rex skull by the back of his shirt. Fiddleford was taken by the ankle from behind the seat and then grabbed by the back of his shirt. He brought with him a few shreds of fabric and lost a few pieces of his nails.

           “Now back to the forest! For the ultimate game!” Probabilitor cried and flew out of the hole in the house. The elf jumped onto the griffon’s neck. The griffon snatched the ogre and flew away.

           “Oh no!” Nick gasped. “That crazy wizard is going to eat your brothers’ brains!”

          Stanley leveled his hand. “Let him take a few bites out of Frod’s brain, even things out smart-wise.” When Graunite Mabel and Nick didn’t show amusement at his words, he sighed in mock-exasperation. “Oh fine. I guess we’ll have to go save them.”

          Grauntie Mabel puffed out her chest. “Indeed! Are you kids ready to go on an epic wizard quest?” Stanley and Nick jumped up and yelled their excitement. “Grab a few weapons, first.”

          Nick dragged a bat out of the couch with a wicked grin. Stanley took out Stanford’s crossbow. Grauntie Mabel put on steel-heeled shoes and grabbed a rake.

           “We’re coming for you, Ford!” Stanley announced. “And Fidds!”

           “And Dipper!” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

           “And probably that cool griffon!” Nicholas yelled.

 

          In the forest, the three were tied to a tree. Fiddleford was hyperventilating. Stanford wormed his hand under the ropes to take him by the hand. He bit his tongue to keep from speaking as he felt drops of blood on the tips of Fidd’s fingers. Grunkle Dipper glowered at Probabilitor as the wizard approached them. “With every brain I eat,” Probabilitor stated and summoned a tape measure. It measured their heads on its own. “-I can increase my enchantelligence!”

          Grunkle Dipper stated coldly, “If my hands were free, I’m break every part of your face.”

          Probabilitor turned. “The time has come! Elf! Ready the brain-cooking pot!”

          The elf sighed. “Yes, Probabilitor.” He took out an arrow, whose tip lit up in light purple flames, and pointed it at the wood under the cauldron. Once the arrow hit, the tinder and wood under the metal cauldron burst into flames. The pink liquid inside of it bubbled. Now, even Grunkle Dipper looked frightened as the wizard’s threat had come to life.

 

          In the forest, Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Nicolas walked on a beaten path. Grauntie Mabel winced and smacked her right shoulder. “These fairy bites are getting more frequent. We must be getting close!”

           “Hey, look, listen!” the fairy squeaked and twitched.

          They stopped and backed up as a giant ogre stomped onto the path before them. “Halt!” he commanded. “You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the wizard!” A sly grin broke across his features. “If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the–”

           “NO!” Nicolas jumped off a small cliff at the edge of the trail and brought his baseball bat down so hard a crack appeared in it. The ogre fell back.

          Stanley poked his foot. “Is he… dead?”

          Grauntie Mabel waved her hand with a huff. “He’s magic, Hun-bun. I’m sure he’s _fine._ ” Nick hopped down next to Grauntie Mabel. Grauntie Mabel hissed too low for Stanley to hear, “There aren’t any cops in the forest. We take this to our graves.” Nicolas nodded.

 

          Probabilitor cackled as he looked over the heavily steaming cauldron.

           “What do we do?” Stanford hissed.

          Grunkle Dipper looked over the scene. “Stay quiet! The more attention you draw to yourself, the more he’ll want to eat you!”

           “And now, a little math problem.” Probabilitor moseyed over to them and got nearly nose-to-nose with Grunkle Dipper. “When I subtract your brains from your skulls,” He tapped each of their heads in turn. Grunkle Dipper glowered at him. “-add salt, and divide your family, what’s the remainder?”

           “YOUR BUTT!” Stanley’s masterful come-back came in response.

           “What? My butt isn’t part of this particular equation.” He turned to look at the brush near the trail, where Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Nicolas leaped out of the brush. “Drat! How did you make it past my one guard? Very well.” Probabilitor gave them a devilish smirk. His staff glowed and pointed to the people who’d been tied up. “There’s only one way your family can save you.” He pointed the staff at Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Nick. “YOU must defeat _ME_ in Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons!” He waved his staff. His voice turned into a heavy echo. “Real life edition!” He stamped the butt of his staff into the purple rune-covered circle on the ground. The area blazed in purple light and then contracted as the light turned into castle-shaped board. A few of his ogre minions appeared on the board. Probabilitor sat cross-legged behind it while Grauntie Mabel and Stanley cross-legged on the other side. Purple sparkles glinted beneath them for a few moments as the spell gave all three of them the ability to levitate half a foot off the ground. Nick took a step back and crossed his arms behind his back.

           “What? Come on,” Grauntie Mabel groaned.

          Probabilitor waved his hand. “I chose my characters…” Three ogres appeared on the board. “-versus…” He closed his hand. Behind him, the ropes fell as the three tied to the tree vanished in a spark of light. Probabilitor opened his hand to reveal the three. “-yours.”

          Grunkle Dipper, now dressed in medieval-style, brown and greenish brown robes and coat, set a hand on his head and blinked. “Ah! What? My ears. Their so pointy!” He revealed a golden button on his tunic as he raised his arm and the belt pressing down his three layers of clothes shuffled at the movement.

          Stanford and Fiddleford looked at each other. They both wore greenish beige tunics and hoodless cloaks. Unlike Grunkle Dipper, their belts were beneath the cloaks. Stanford looked at himself. “What in the–?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “Oh, this isn’t good.”

          Stanley huffed, “Seriously, can’t we just, like, arm wrestle or something?”

          Probabilitor clicked his tongue and closed his hands. The three boys appeared on the game set. “Come on! This game is a lot of fun! I had my mom pack me a lunch.” He took out a brown paper bag and fished out a bag of apple slices. “Ew, apple slices? I’ll eat you last.” He discarded the bag.

          Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “Just make with the rules, already.” Stanley looked between them and started chewing on a piece of pink gum.

           “The game is a battle royal,” Probabilitor explained. “We help our characters by casting spells determined by rolls of the dice. If you win, I’ll go back to my own dimension.”

          Mabel clapped and Stanley grinned at her.

           “-But if _I_ win, I eat their brains.”

          Stanford looked between them. “Look, I’m not sure this is such a good id–”

          Stanley hit his fist into his open head. “DEAL!”

           “Oh boy.” Stanford hung his head with a short sigh.

           “Let the game… BEGIN!” Probabilitor rolled a glowing pink dice. It landed on “13”. “Attack!” he cried. The ogres immediately charged the shrunken three and smashed their weapons into the ground and swung them.

          Fiddleford ducked and sprinted away. Grunkle Dipper hopped back with a shout. Stanford darted around so that he was behind the ogre. “Hey! WHOA!” he ducked as the ogre spun around, bringing his weapon with him.

          Stanley looked down as the scene unfolded. “Uh-uh! What do we do? What are our moves?!”

          Stanford spared a glance up at him. “There _are_ no moves!”

          Grauntie Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

           “Yes,” Grunkle Dipper agreed and hopped back so that he wasn’t crushed into oblivion by a club bristling with nails. “I tried to tell you: this game involves math, but also risk and imagination!”

           “Risk?” Stanley rubbed his hands together with a devilish smile.

           “Oh! Imagination!” Grauntie Mabel squeaked. “Stanley! You first! Make something up! It’s just like lying, but more fun!”

          Stanley picked up his own dice, which glittered blue. “I cast, uh…” Stanford staggered back and hit the ground as he tripped over his own cape. Fiddleford grabbed him and dragged him to his feet. Grunkle Dipper held an arm out in front of them and glared at the ogre ready to strike. “Shield of… shielding!” he dropped the dice, which landed on fourteen.

          A blue, translucent shield appeared before the three. The ogre’s spiked club rang and reverberated off the shield. Stanford laughed and puffed out his chest. Grunkle Dipper kept a hand on his shoulder and grinned, partially due to the two younger boys’ infectious relief and happiness at the evasion of death.

           “Ha!” Stanley laughed. “We’re doing it!” Grauntie Mabel punched him in the arm with a light chuckle.

          Probabilitor rolled his dice. “Shield of Shielding reversal spell!” Their shield turned pink and dissolved. The ogre roared in triumph and held up his weapon.

          Grauntie Mabel swiped the dice from the board. “I cast: Giggle Time Bouncy Boots!” Pink boots with googly eyes and springs appeared on the three. Grunkle Dipper hopped up and then leaped back. Stanford and Fiddleford dodged the attack easily, laughing as they were practically flying. Grunkle Dipper sported a confused grin. “Hot flamey sword!” she announced. Red swords alight with red flames appeared in their hands. “Super-hot flamey sword!” The sword got longer, and the flames fiercer. Stanford and Fiddleford hopped over the two ogres closest. Stanford hopped on the first’s head and then swung his sword down as he landed. The ogre dissipated in a flash of dull pink light. Fiddleford plunged his own sword down the creature’s head, causing him to dissolve. Grunkle Dipper parried a blow from the third and ran him through.

          Probabilitor threw his dice again. “I cast: Ogre-nado!” A hard wind picked up and swirled around the dice. Ogre body parts, mostly their heads but some arms and legs, popped out of the tornado. Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Fiddleford, their boots gone, stood a few feet away. Their swords were torn out of their hands by the sheer wind power and lodged into the wall in the far side of the arena.

          Grauntie Mabel puffed out her chest and grabbed the dice. “I cast: Centaur-taur! Yah!” The blue dice rolled onto the board. Before it could stop, it burst into blue flames and turned into a horse. Instead of a head, its elongated neck turned into another horse.

          Stanley looked up at his great aunt. “I’m so confused right now. But it’s still awesome!”

          The creature reared, whinnied, and ran to the boys’ aid. Grunkle Dipper hopped onto its back. It flipped over so that its over body was running. Dipper held onto it, now upside down, with both legs and arms. Stanford, holding Fiddleford’s hand with a very tight grip, hopped onto the horse. Fiddleford held onto his shoulder and pushed him forward so that Stanford could get a better grip on the horse. With a snort, the centaur-taur turned and sprinted for the far end of the field where a large door opening was in the middle of the wall.

           “Go, go, go!” Grauntie Mabel and Stanley cheered. “You can do it!”

          The centaur-taur hit the top of the doorway and disappeared in a flash of light. Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Fiddleford landed in a heap at the far end of the small room. The ogre-nado hit the wall, effectively knocking it down and tearing it apart. The ogre-nado disappeared into over two dozen ogres, all of which vanished in a flash of light.

          As Grauntie Mabel and Stanley cheered, Grunkle Dipper helped the two very happy boys to their feet and chanced a smile at their accomplishment and survival. Then, they gasped in terror as a three-fingered beast grabbed them all in one hand, picked them up, and then forced them to the wall. They stared down the creature’s one eye. The hideous thing bore two bat-wings but also a whole amalgamation of weird parts. Wart-covered horns, tentacles, spikes, multiple arms and legs, and patches of fur and scales covered the ugly thing’s body. Grauntie Mabel and Stanley stopped cheering immediately.

          Probabilator cackled, “Yes! I was saving the worst for last!”

          Stanford gasped. “Oh no!”

           “ _What?!”_ Fiddleford sucked in his breath.

          Grunkle Dipper glared past the beast and to Probabilitor. “Hey! I thought the Impossibeast was banned!”

           “Think again!” Probabilitor sneered. “I’m playing the controversial 1991-1992 edition!”

          Grauntie Mabel picked up the dice. “I-I’ll think of some weapons!”

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “You don’t understand. This is the most powerful creature in the game. Only by rolling a perfect thirty-eight can it be defeated. But the odds of that are–”

          Stanley laughed and snatched the dice from Mabel. “Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re gunna be a world-class gambler!” He shook the dice and concentrated on the board. “Alright, Stan, you can do this. Papa needs a new pair of… _twins!_ ” He chucked the dice. They watched as it skipped and rolled over the board. The atmosphere was so tense, Stanford could hardly breath. That wasn’t even speaking for Fiddleford, who was holding his breath, of Dipper, who probably was as well.

          The dice stopped rolling. For a moment, it tottered on “37” before finally landing on “38”. Probabilitor’s smug smile immediately left him. _“NO!”_

           “Sorry, nerd-wizard,” Stanley sneered. “All your smarts are no match for dumb luck.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked down. Stanley gave her the thumbs up. “I cast: _Death Muffins!_ ”

          The trio being pinned by the impossibeast raised their hands. Pink, glittering muffins with a stick of dynamite whose wick was burning appeared in their hands. They chucked the three explosive confections into the monster’s mouth. Instead of a throat, it had another mouth which had a throat. The creature shut its mouths with a confused groan. It let go of the boys, shuttered, bloated like a balloon, and then exploded into a giant, pink mushroom cloud raining pink-frosted muffins. Stanley and Grauntie Mabel cheered. Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Fiddleford appeared next to their family, back in their normal clothes and back to their normal size. All three held muffins.

          Stanley pounced on Stanford, laughing, and dragged Fiddleford in for a hug. Grauntie Mabel rubbed their heads and then put her brother in a headlock.

          The elf behind him, holding the rulebook, flipped his hair. “The game is, like, over. Excelci-whatever.”

          The group stood up and watched as Probabilitor and the game set turned pink and disintegrated. “No! I’m returning to my own realm! I’m turning into pure math! What are the _oooooodds?”_ He, like everything else that was summoned, vanished. Nick plopped to the ground as he’d been holding onto the griffon.

          Grauntie Mabel took a bite out of the non-lethal death muffin she had been gifted.

          Fiddleford laughed and turned to his best friend. “That was amazin’! How’d ya know we’d win?”

          Stanley plucked the thirty-eight-sided dice from the ground. It stuck a bit as the gum he’d put on it had a hard time letting go of the ground. “A gambler never reveals his secrets.”

          Grauntie Mabel knelt down in front of the kids. “Look, I’m sorry for making fun of your game. Sure, it might be too nerdy for us, but it’s just the right amount of nerdy for you and my brother. So, if you wanna hang out sometimes, I won’t get in your way.”

          Stanford grinned. “Actually, after all this, I’d like to have some mindless fun.”

          Nick, now holding his Duck-tective plush, announced, “Hey! It’s not too late to watch the Duck-tective season finale! It’s not too late!” His plush squeaked.

 

          Later that night, Grauntie Mabel lounge in her chair in the living room, Stanley sat on the T-Rex skull at her side, Stanford sitting on the seat with her, and Nick and Fiddleford watching from the floor. A bowl of popcorn, containers of chips, and duck-foot-shaped snacks were shared between them.

          On the TV, Duck-tective lay on a hospital bed. An oxygen mask fitted over his beak. His friend stood over his bed. The duck let out a few sad quacks. On the TV, subtitles appeared. “I’m going to that big pond in the sky.”

          The man took off his hat and wiped a tear away from his eye. “I just don’t understand who shot you. The only person clever enough to defeat Duck-tective is-” the man gasped. “Duck-tective!” He shuttered as a bedpan was thrown at him. The man fell over, unconscious.

          In the doorway behind him was a small, avian shape. Duck-tective sat up and watched as a duck very, very similar in appearance to Duck-tective save for his black goatee, walked into the light. He quacked. The subtitles read, “Time to finish the job… _twin brother!_ ”

          Duck-tective let out a terrified quack. The oxygen mask fell off.

          The people watching stared at the screen, unamused. Stanley huffed, “He had a twin brother all along?” He raised his hands, inadvertently spilling chips onto Mabel’s lap. “ _That’s_ the big twist we were waiting for?”

          Nick smashed the chip he held into the ground and crossed his arms. “What a rip-off!”

          Fiddleford scoffed, “I predicted that a year ago.”

 

          Grunkle Dipper led Stanford into the basement. The scientist opened a glass door to a small square in a shelf of squares. He set a tube with the infinity-sided die suspended in it. He locked it with a key attached to a keychain with a glowing UFO. “This’ll be here if you ever need it.”

          Stanford looked up at him and stuck his hands into his pockets. “Really? Even though I got us into this whole game-playing mess?”

          Grunkle Dipper gave him a small smile. “Eh, we both got carried away. I guess who’d both gone a while without a friend.” Stanford brightened. Grunkle Dipper’s smile left him. “May I tell you something, Stanford?”

          Stanford, his own smile lost, nodded.

           “You asked me earlier what I was working one. Well…” Grunkle Dipper pulled down the curtain covering the window into the portal room. Stanford’s eyes went round as he looked over the wreckage. “I dismantled the portal. An interdimensional gateway is too dangerous for the world it feeds into. _That’s_ why I got so mad at Mabel for using it. She saved me but, as I feared,” Grunkle Dipper opened a slot just above the desk and pulled out a snow globe with a swirling, lava-lamp piece of ever shifting universe in it. “-the instability of the machine created this.” He opened his hand fully to show it to him. “It’s an interdimensional rift. I’ve contained it for now, but it’s _incredibly_ dangerous.” Dipper set his hand on Stanford’s shoulder and stared into his eyes with an intensity Stanford couldn’t even describe. “Stanford, I don’t want you to tell _anyone_ about this. Not Mabel, not even your brother and best friend. Do you understand?”

          Stanford nodded. “I understand. Of course.”

           “In my time, I have made many powerful enemies. But! I trust you with this secret.” Stanford bit his tongue. The very thought caused his heart to race. _The author, the man who would check his own shadow to see if it was trying to kill him, trusted Stanford._ Grunkle Dipper let go of him and stood up. “Now, get yourself to bed. I have much research to do.”

          Stanford smiled and walked off. He looked behind him. “Good night, Great Uncle Dipper!”

           “Goodnight, Stanford.” Once the elevator shut behind Stanford, Grunkle Dipper frowned at the rift and put it back in the cubby that once held Journal One amongst other books.

 

DM’R GFQA AN LFQC EHTYR **Q** B Z FILAVC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell in a handbasket, I didn't post this? This is my favorite episode in the entire show series- right next to "Sock Opera" and "Northwest Mansion Mystery". What?
> 
> Er, anyway, yay for D&D&D! I've never played D&D before, but it sounds fun and people have recommended it. Also, I thought that since Fidds is such a nerd, he'd _wizard_ like to play. That and Stanley _vigenère_ liked ogres, so it all pans out. Dipper is so fun to write. Haha I love the guy.


	11. The Last Fordicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wizard's gone and things are settling back into their normal places. What could disturb the happy town of Gravity Falls and its blissfully ignorant inhabitants?

          The full moon cast an eerie glow over the pine forest surrounding Gravity Falls. The houses glowed under the dim silver light. Stanley and Stanford slept peacefully in their beds. The book “The Sibling Bros inc. ~ The Fable of the Unstoppable Table” was left open on Stanford’s chest and his glasses stayed skewed on his face. One of Stanley’s hands brushed the floor, his fingers now tangled in his sheet.

          In Dipper’s room, which was by now ripe with papers, books, bags, and even a few untouched sweets that had a suspicious glimmer to them, littered the shelves, crumpled on the floor, and took up room on the couch Dipper slept on. Like Stanford, he seemed to have gone to bed at an awkward time with his reading glasses on his face and his day clothes still donned.

 

          Dipper looked over the wheat field he found himself in. Nearby, a teeter totter glinted in the half-light. The torn portal lay in ruins behind him. The shade cast by a broken RV didn’t reach far. It was as if the light source above, which seemed to be a moon obscured by clouds, didn’t throw the shadows like it should have.

          Dipper looked about. Where was he…?

          Suddenly, the wheat flattened behind him. Dipper jumped as the wheat flattened around him to create the image of a triangle with arms, legs, and a top hat. Once the wheat settled, the flattened area glowed blue. An echoing laugh rose from the plains like that of a hyena stealing dinner from a lion.

          Dipper’s muscles tensed. “I recognize that laugh… show yourself!” He stared at the sky and then spun around as a blue laser erupted from the earth into the cloudy sky. His navy-blue overcoat snapped as a sudden wind blew it back. The wind was not heavy enough to faze Dipper, but the light that burst from the laser was enough to make him reflexively hold an arm over his eyes.

          When the light faded, and Dipper lowered his arms and opened his eyes, he saw Bill floating before him, hands on his sides and bright eye staring down at him. “ **WELL, WELL, WELL,** ” Bill started to duplicate until his duplicates surrounded Dipper. **“-WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL!** ” Bill spread his arms out in front of him and the entire circle spun as all copies followed the movements of the original. “ **AREN’T YOU A SIGHT FOR SORE _EYE?_** ” He clasped his hands together. “ **MASON PINES, MY OLD PAL!** ”

          Dipper stayed stock still and frowned at Bill. “Bill Cipher. What do you want from me?”

           “ **OH, QUIT PLAYING DUMB, PINE TREE!** ” One Bill put an arm around his shoulders while another ruffled his hair. “ **YOU KNEW I’D BE BACK!** ” The Bill who ruffled his hair and spoke flicked his nose. Dipper winced and put a hand on his nose. “ **YOU THINK SHUTTING DOWN THAT PORTAL COULD STOP WHAT I HAVE PLANNED?** ” The Bills turned into brilliant blue smoke and reformed into one Bill as big as the Mystery Shack. Dipper looked up at Bill as he spoke. “ **I’VE BEEN MAKING DEALS, CHATTING WITH OLD FRIENDS, PREPARING FOR THE BIG DAY!** ” He clapped his hands together. “ **YOU CAN’T KEEP THAT RIFT SAFE _FOREVER._** ” The last word echoed as if they were in a metal room. He held up one hand and snapped his fingers. In a puff of blue flame, an illusion of the dimensional rift floated above his hand. “ **YOU’LL SLIP UP! AND WHEN YOU DO…** ” Bill’s hand grasped the dimensional rift. He threw it on the ground, causing it to shatter and the rift to leak. The very air burst and tore to reveal a psychedelic purple universe crossed by what could have been clouds. Fires popped out of the ground and consumed the dreamscape Dipper stood in.

          Dipper glanced at the smoking, dying ground under his worn boots and glared up at Bill. “Get out of here! You have no dominion in our world!”

          Bill, his body now a pitch-black silhouette with one glowing orange eye, stared down at him. “ **MAYBE NOT RIGHT NOW, BUT THINGS CHANGE, MASON PINES!** ” Bill’s voice grew deep and grumbling as he ascended into the rift. The fires around the dreamscape turned into a roaring fire tornado with Dipper in the epicenter. “ **THINGS… CHANGE…!** ”

 

          Dipper threw off his blanket as he sat up. For a moment, he looked about, breathing heavily, not understanding where he was. He looked over his mildly disturbed room. He gulped and leveled out his breathing. “I’ve got to warn them,” he breathed and put a hand to his forehead, which was covered in a light sheen of cold sweat. “He’s coming.”

 

          The daytime, summer sun warmed the Valley. Birds chirped and squirrels chittered as the branches they clung to waved in the wind. Stanford and Stanley stopped beside a closet and opened it. Stanley rubbed his hands in excitement as the two looked over the dark closet.

           “Alright, Grauntie Mabel has to have some decent games in here,” Stanford announced. Multiple board game boxes covered in dust and cobwebs stacked up by a vacuum.

          Stanley listed off, “Let’s see… _‘Battlechutes & Ladderships’,_ _‘Necronomiconopoly’,_ _‘Don’t Wake Stalin’_ , _‘Connect Forty-Four’_ …”

          Stanford picked up a board game whose exterior was like that of a jungle. Two kids geared up in exploring garb screamed as they looked at the giant snake and large rhino that approached them from either side of the cover. “What Could Go Wrong: The Game” was at the top with a long string at the bottom bearing the words: “The last players who opened this box didn’t make it out ALIVE!”

          After a short pause, Stanley shrugged. “Well, I know what we’re doing today.”

           “This should take up the next twenty-one minutes,” Stanford agreed.

           “FAMILY MEETING!” Grunkle Dipper called from the downstairs. The kids looked back. “FAMILY MEETING!”

 

          Grauntie Mabel, wearing a sweater that started out purple from the bottom and sunny yellow to the top with a pink unicorn on it, sat on the couch on the porch. Waddles slept at her feet. She knitted a new sweater, this one being various hues of purple and pine trees in a sunset.

           “FAMILY MEETING!” Grauntie Mabel turned her head as she heard her brother calling. “FAMILY MEETING!”

 

          Inside, Stanley and Stanford walked into the living room. Grunkle Dipper currently stood over the living room table, scrolls, books, a bag, and even a few potions spread out of the wood. “Ah, Children!” Grunkle Dipper didn’t look up, but sat down. “Come in, come in.”

          Stanley ran up to the table and jumped onto the first chair. “Oh-ho! Mystery scrolls and potions and- oh! An old timey bag! Are we finally old enough to go to Wizard School?”

           “No, no!” Grunkle Dipper took the bag away from him. “Heh. There is no such thing as Wizard School in this dimension,” Grunkle Dipper said, his voice just as uneven and awkward as ever around them. Stanley frowned and sat down. Stanford hopped into the seat next to him. Grunkle Dipper picked up a scroll and turned it around so that they could see its contents. “Do either of you recognize _this_ symbol?” The top of the scroll was covered in weird hieroglyphs. The scroll was taken over by a large image of Bill Cipher.

          The boys gasped. Stanford’s gaze hardened. “Bill.”

           “You… you _know_ him?” Grunkle Dipper’s eyes grew wide.

           “He’s been terrorizing us all summer!” Stanford exclaimed. He put a hand to his head. “I-I have so many questions a-and theories and…!”

           “He’s been _really_ paranoid since Bill possessed him,” Stanley explained.

           “The important thing is we defeated him twice!” Stanford cut in.

           “Once with lasers and once with punches!” Stanley exclaimed. Stanford winced at the memory of the _second_ defeat.

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “The fact that you’ve dealt with Bill gravely serious.”

           “So how do _you_ know him?” Stanford prompted.

          Grunkle Dipper looked down at his books and twitched his fingers. “I’ve encountered many dark beings in my time, Stanford.” He turned his gaze up to look at them. “What matters is that his powers are growing stronger. If he pulls off his plans, _no one_ in this family will be safe!”

          Stanley gasped and looked at Stanford, whose concern only grew.

          Grunkle Dipper laid out an old map of the first story of the house. It was labeled “LAB PLANS” rather than house plans. “Fortunately, there should be a way to shield us from his mental tricks- a way to Bill-proof the Shack, if you will.” He tapped various places on the map. “All I have to do is place moonstones here, here, and here, sprinkle some mercury, and… ugh. I always forget the last ingredient.” He brought out his journal from his overcoat and flipped through the pages. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Unicorn hair.” They could see Grauntie Mabel’s eyes pop out from behind the doorway near Grunkle Dipper, as if the word “unicorn” had summoned her. They could see the ends of her huge grin.

           “That’s not… _rare_ is it?” Stanford prompted.

           “It’s hopeless,” Grunkle Dipper sighed. He read from the book and turned it to the boys. “Unicorns reside deep in an enchanted glade, and their hairs can only be obtained by a pure, good-hearted person who goes on a magical quest to find them.” The left page marked “UNICORN” had a curly-maned unicorn smiling down at a woman brushing her mane. “MAGIC HAIR, only for the PURE of HEART” was written from the top right corner to the bottom left corner of the right page with a lock of hair being at the top and a woman holding a heart on the other side.

          Grauntie Mabel jumped out from behind Grunkle Dipper and screamed, though this time it seemed to be in joy and excitement rather than play. Grunkle Dipper dropped his book and screamed as well. Grauntie Mabel ducked as he took out his gun and fired at the source of the noise. A laser vaporized a chunk of the doorway. Grunkle Dipper put away the gun and glared at her. “MABEL! Stop that! I almost shot you!”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up and waved her hand. “Details. But you’re going on a magical quest to meet a unicorn? An actual unicorn? And take their _hair?_ ”

           “Yes,” Grunkle Dipper stated coldly and picked his journal back up. “We need to Bill-proof the Shack by–”

           “Grabbing some moonstones and mercury and some unicorn hair, I know, I know. I was here.” Grauntie Mabel finished. “So, who’s the lucky adventurer?”

          Stanley nodded at Stanford. “He likes magical creatures.”

           “I’m going to be busy studying, Stanley,” Stanford cut in tightly. “I can’t go on a magical unicorn quest.”

           “Why can’t she go?” Stanley prompted and gestured to Grauntie Mabel. “She’s a girl!”

           “She’s…” Grunkle Dipper cut himself off. “Stanley, she’s not going.”

           “Lee, if you go, I’ll make chocolate ice cream and fudge cookies. Only if you bring back a unicorn treasure for me, though!”

          Stanley slammed his fist on the table. “You got yourself a deal!”

          Grunkle Dipper held out Journal One. “Very well. It won’t be easy,” Grunkle Dipper cautioned and brought out a crossbow. “Take this.”

           “Ooooh!” Stanley held up the crossbow and admired it. It was a bit older than Stanford’s, but it was reinforced and stronger.

           “I haven’t been in this dimension for a while,” Grunkle Dipper admitted. “It’s okay to give children weapons, right?”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Just don’t tell their parents. That’s what I did! There’s a crowbar under the couch, Champ.”

          Stanley cackled and jumped up. “Unicorn hair, here I come!” He took out his phone and ran out of the room. “Hank, Nick, Dan, Fidds! Clear the afternoon!”

          Grauntie Mabel wave at him and ran into the yard.

          Stanford watched him go before turning to Grunkle Dipper. “So, how probable is it that Stanley will get that hair?”

          Grunkle Dipper packed up his things and stood up. “Unlikely. I’ve dealt with unicorns before. If I had to describe the in one word, it would be… _aggravating._ ”

          Stanford held his hands behind his back. “So, what about Bill?”

          Grunkle Dipper tipped his head back and walked to the gift shop. Stanford flipped the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED” and ran to his great uncle’s side. His great uncle pressed a button on his watch. The vending machine swung open with a _hiss_ as the difference in air pressure and composition along with the vacuum created by the opening door led to a clash. As soon as the two were inside the cement hallway, the vending machine was shut. Grunkle Dipper typed a quick code into the elevator and stepped in. Their destination was Level Two.

          Stanford didn’t look up at his great uncle, but he couldn’t put down the rapid beating of his heart. _He was standing next to the author._ He knew Grunkle Dipper as his awkward great uncle who, despite all formalities and his weird personality being quite the opposite of their fun-loving, exuberant great aunt, had a fascination of the unknown. Though in hindsight, it was pretty obvious a man like Grunkle Dipper would like D &D&D. Grunkle Dipper was family. Yet the buzzing feeling of nervousness and jittery excitement didn’t go away. Stanford had spent so long putting the author on a pedestal that he couldn’t reach him to bring him back down again.

           “Welcome to my private study,” Grunkle Dipper announced as he opened a very ornate wooden door. Stanford looked about with round eyes. Bookshelves that reached the ceiling and spanned the walls stood overloaded with books. Desks held globes, figurines, prisms, notes, gadgets, and gear. Next to a spiral staircase was a collection of giant TVs flanked by filing cabinets and smaller tech still too big for Stanford to hold. A stray chess set stood under a globe, it’s dust so thick that Stanford couldn’t tell black from white. A memory gun sat on a desk and tarps covered multiple objects, most of them large and square. Grunkle Dipper led him inside. “It’s a place where I keep my most ancient and secret knowledge. Not even your great aunt knows about this place.” Stanford hesitated by what looked like a portrait twice his height mostly buried under a sheet. When he pulled at the bottom edge, Grunkle Dipper raised his voice a bit to catch Stanford’s attention, “Stanford! Come along!” Stanford dropped the tarp and ran after him. Grunkle Dipper stopped in front of the set of TVs. “If we can’t Bill-proof the Shack, we’re going to have to do the next best thing.” He opened the lone drawer under the TVs and picked up something that looked like a cross between a strainer and a helmet. A giant cord attached from it to something inside of the drawer. A stick poked out one end with graspers like insect legs or a spine. When he flipped the switch, the little graspers flicked outward.

          Stanford’s eyes went round. _What was that thing? Why did it look so… ominous?_

 

          Butterflies fluttered through the enchanted wood as Stanley, Fiddleford at his side along with Hank, Nick, and Dan, tromped to his destination. Journal One was in Fiddleford’s hands. The boy kept his eyes glued to the book. He most intently studied the passages over unicorns.

          Stanley chuckled. “Oh, man! This is going to be awesome!”

          Nick watched as a fairy fluttered past and then to Stanley. “Lee? Why are we chasing after unicorns?”

           “To protect the Shack,” Stanley replied. “I told you that.”

           “Yeah, but… isn’t this a girl adventure?” Nick prompted.

           “You came along didn’t you?” Stanley teased. “Besides, Grauntie Mabel promised fudge cookies and ice cream if I brought her a unicorn treasure. I’ll share.”

          Dan shrugged. “I’m just making sure you boys don’t get eaten by a bear. I never believed in unicorns.”

          Fiddleford didn’t look up from his reading. “I reckon you didn’t believe in gnomes, either.”

           “…you have a fair point.”

          Hank elbowed Nicolas. “Nick, you haven’t been outside of town in years. Enjoy it.”

           “Eh, I guess so.” Nicolas shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. He sneezed as a butterfly attempted to land on his nose. “Still, this is an adventure I can't brag to the other boys about. It’s a unicorn adventure.”

          Dan put a hand over his eyes. “I think I know why Mabel loves this place so much. It hurts my eyes.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah. It’s said that the enchanted forest shines with colors only bees and art students can see.”

          Hank took out his phone and took a few pictures. “My sister is never going to believe me.”

          Stanley held up his hand and stopped. “Wait! I think we’re here.” They were in a cove with mossy rocks engraved with runes and a small creek. Butterflies and birds hummed and fluttered about. Fiddleford flipped a page and nodded. “Yes. Let’s see… the gnome tavern is over there, the fairy salon here…” He dragged his finger over the map on the page. “Hmm… it should be here. But to summon the unicorn, one must bellow this ancient chant droned only by the deepest-voiced druids of old.” They looked up at Dan.

          Dan sighed, took the journal, and took a few steps ahead of them. “Oy-oyoy-oyoyoyoy!” he bellowed in the deepest voice he could muster, which wasn’t too surprising as he already possessed a relatively deep voice.

          Dan walked back to them and handed to journal to Fiddleford. “Look, I don’t think–”

          The kids looked down and then took a few steps back as the ground rumbled. The half-buried stones around the glad rose up, bringing with it an earthen wall that connected them all in a circle. Once the wall raised to nearly the Shack’s height, it stopped. Ahead of them was an overly intricate door bursting with color.

          Stanley pushed open the gates. Nick’s eyes went round. “The paintings airbrushed on vans were true!”

          More butterflies, this time accommodated by glittery dust, brushed past them. The glade before them was lush and full and happy with grass, bushes, flowers, and mushrooms. A small waterfall fell into a glimmering pool. The spray gave off a glimmering rainbow that never seemed to change in opacity or size. A little satyr playing a pan flute sat on a rock near the pool. The most impressive of all was the white horse laying on a rock in the center of the pool. Her tail extended long and thin like a cat’s, but ended in a beautiful rainbow of colorful hair. The unicorn whipped her head back, blowing strands of rainbow hair away from her glimmering eyes. Although she had a mouth, it did not move as she whinnied. Instead, her horn glowed a soft pink.

           “Whoa,” Stanley breathed, his eyes wide in shock.

           “Enchanting,” Fiddleford agreed.

           “What?” Dan looked about.

           “Hark!” the unicorn announced. Her soft, if clearly audible, voice personified rainbows. “Visitors to my realm of enchantment!”

          Stanley cleared his throat. “What’s your name?”

           “I am Celestabellebethabelle, last of my kind,” she announced. She stood up. In doing so, she bared her flank, where an image of three blue diamonds merged with her short fur. “Come in, come in. Just, take off your shoes. I have a thing about shoes.” The kids immediately took off their shoes and stepped forward. When Dan did not follow suit, the unicorn spoke up, “Ah, ah! I’m talking to everyone!” Dan took off his boots and walked further into the glade so that he was with the rest of the boys.

          Stanley stepped forward. “Celestabellebethabelle, we have journeyed far and wide–”

           “About an hour!” Nicolas piped up.

           “-on a mission to protect our family with your magical hair!” Stanley announced.

          Celestabellebethabelle turned so that she faced them and walked onto dry land. “Very well. To receive a lock of my enchanted hair, step forth gi- child of pure, perfect heart.” The clouds created a shade over most of the glade expect one piece where a ray of sunshine fell like a spotlight.

          Stanley looked at his friends. He elbowed Fiddleford. The southerner held tight the journal but, after getting some more encouragement in the form of a thumbs up from the other boys, gave Journal Two to Stanley. He took a deep breath and walked into the light. Stanley announced, “Presenting…!”

           “Fiddleford,” Fiddleford agreed.

          Celestabellebethabelle stared at him “What? You?” Fiddleford looked about and then nodded. “A unicorn can see deep inside your heart, child.” She lowered her horn. His heart glowed in his chest before fading.

           “Whoa!” Fiddleford put a hand to his chest.

           “And you have done wrong. WRONG I say!” she whinnied.

          Fiddleford put a hand on the back of his neck. “Ah guess Ah do set things on fire a lot… an’ Ah scare off people…”

          Celestabellebethabelle bowed her head and wept. “Your bad deeds make me cry!” A rainbow tear slid down her face and dropped onto a beautiful flower. The flower shriveled up and died. The boys stared at her. Celestabellebethabelle wiped her eyes with one feathered hoof and raised her head. “Come back when you are _pure of heart!”_ She reared and tossed back her head. When she landed on all fours, she pointed to the door with her horn. “Exit is that way. Shoes, shoes, take your shoes. This isn’t some… some… shoe store.”

          The boys picked up their shoes on the way out. “Wow,” Stanley huffed. “Rude.”

           “Why didn’t we bring Mrs. Pines along?” Fiddleford prompted, more than a little hurt. “She’s a girl and she’s pure of heart.”

           “I think Celestabethebella-whatever was talking about a young maiden,” Dan shrugged. “But a boy would work, I guess?”

          Stanley tipped his head. “What’s a maiden?”

          Dan hesitated. “Uh… a young woman or a girl who hasn’t gotten married before.”

          Hank looked back at the gate. “Do you think there’s another way to get her to give us her hair?”

          Stanley shrugged. “We could cut off her hair when she isn’t looking.”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “She’s a unicorn! Unicorns are magical! She wouldn’t appreciate having her hair cut off. What about you?” Fiddleford prompted. “You defend your brother all the time.”

          Dan stated, “You’re thinking of noble. Noble and pure are two different things. Knights can be noble, but not pure of heart.”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah. Besides, I break stuff a lot. And I just suggested cutting her hair off while she wasn’t looking.”

          Nicolas prompted, “Well, what if he does a bunch of good deeds?”

           “That could work,” Stanley agreed.

           “What?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “You know, do a bunch of good things,” Nicolas shrugged. “It’ll make you a better person or something.”

          Fiddleford took the journal back from Stanley. “Oh. Well… okay.”

 

          In Grunkle Dipper’s lab, Stanford sat down on a stool in front of the TVs. Grunkle Dipper set the mind machine on his head like a helmet. The two claw-like things snapped around his face and nearly touched his nose and mouth to keep itself steady. A monitor nearby immediately flashed on and a line inside spiked and moved like a heart monitor. The TV screens glowed deep green with light letters and numbers moving across it.

          Stanford looked back at Grunkle Dipper as he flipped switched and typed in things. “So, what exactly is Bill?” Stanford prompted and picked up a file labeled “CIPHER FILE” from an open drawer in the filing cabinet.

           “No one knows for sure,” Grunkle Dipper explained, still not taking his eyes off his work. “Accounts differ from place to place and time to time of his true motivations and origins.” Stanford looked through pictures and documents of Bill, references to Bill in history, and basic information. “I know that he’s older than our galaxy and _far_ more twisted.” Stanford reached the last page and unfolded it, as it had been folded into thirds. One third labeled “OUR WORLD” held a human skull with eyeballs and outline of a head. The second saying “MIND SCAPE” held part of its skull growing narrower near the middle and expanding near the end like taffy. A person stood talking to Bill inside of a large swath of dark gray from the person’s outline. The third reading “NIGHTMARE REALM” was a large orb of dark gray with the very end of the skull and a large picture of Bill. “Without a physical form, he can only project himself into our thoughts through the mindscape.” Grunkle Dipper held up the rift inside of its snow-globe container. “That’s why he wants this. I dismantled the portal, but with this, Bill has a way into our reality. He would trick or possess _anyone_ to get his hands on this rift.”

          Stanford looked up at his great uncle. “So, how do we keep Bill out of our minds?”

          Grunkle Dipper put away the rift. In a voice just as serious and flat as a lawyer speaking his case, he explained, “There are many ways to do it. I had a metal plate installed in my head.”

          Stanford half-smiled. “Er- heh. Good one.”

          Grunkle Dipper knocked on the side of his head. Instead of a _thunk_ like Stanford expected, the sound of someone knocking on a metal wall of a cluttered fish tank came in response.

          Stanford cleared his throat and kicked his legs.

           “But this machine is safer,” Grunkle Dipper explained. “It will scan your thoughts and bioelectrically encrypt them so that Bill can’t read your thoughts.” He held up a remote and pressed a button. The screen flickered and changed. Jumbled words and sentences moved across the screen, all being read aloud in Stanford’s voice. Some of the louder ones were the thoughts Stanford had most recently or right then. _“I can’t believe I’m with the author.” “What is this thing?” “How’d he make it?” “How’s Stanley doing?” “I hope Fiddleford is alright…”_ swam across the screen along with different images buried beneath the words.

          Stanford turned to his great uncle. “You never told me about your relationship with Bill.”

          Grunkle Dipper knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stanford, do you trust me?”

           “Well, yes, but–”

           “Then you must _trust_ that that’s not important.” Grunkle Dipper turned to the screen. “Now focus. It’s time to strengthen your mind.”

 

          The boys now stood in the sidewalk in the middle of town. Stanley put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. “It’s time to strengthen your heart!”

          Nick held up a pad filled with good deeds. One had mistakes Fiddleford had made as well. “I’ll keep track. Don’t worry about it.”

          Then, they were off. Fiddleford plucked snails off the sidewalk and put them on the grass. A local pug immediately ate them. They dug a hole in the ground and Dan stuck a young tree in it. They didn’t notice Thompson Determined attempting to leave his home, fail as branches blocked the way, and go back inside. Stanley–Fiddleford in his grasp–chased down the garbage truck that he’d thrown a bottle in. Though they managed to get the driver to throw the bottle at him and allow him to recycle it, the garbage truck hit a river and its front tires sank into the water. Fiddleford donated quite a bit of blood. Dan carried him for a little while after that. The boy managed to eat some crackers and drink some orange juice, so he was good soon enough. Stanley snuck Fiddleford’s soldering iron and blow torch from somewhere in his room and hid it. Fiddleford and Stanley got in a small argument after that, which was quickly put down by Dan.

          Eventually, Nick crossed out the last thing on the checklist. “A thousand good deeds!” he announced. The rest of them cheered.

          Stanley smirked. “Dude, she’s going to love you.”

           “Y-yeah!” Fiddleford agreed. “Ah hope so.”

           “I _know_ so, Fidds! When that unicorn reads Fidds’ heart, she’s gunna say that you’re one hundred percent, absolutely–”

 

           “Not pure of heart!” Celestabellebethabelle whinnied. They were back in the glade.

           “What?”

           “What?” Dan huffed. “How is that possible? Fidds’ an awesome kid, Hoofbag!”

          Fiddleford set his gaze. “Tell us what we’re doing wrong! -er, please?”

          Celestabellebethabelle huffed, “Doing good deeds to make yourself look better isn’t good at all! Besides, you’re standing on, like, ten dandelions right now. Those are children’s dreams.”

          Fiddleford looked down and took a step back. “But- _why?_ ”

          The unicorn flipped her hair. “Well, it’s not _my_ fault you’re not a pure-of-heart boy.” Fiddleford stared at her in shock and retreated into himself a bit.

          Stanley huffed and clenched his fists, “You’re just saying that because Fidds’ a guy, aren’t you?”

          Celestabellebethabelle narrowed her eyes. “No. I’m simply stating facts. Now, if you excuse me, I have a three o’clock posing in front of a rainbow.” She took a few steps toward the pool, set a hoof on a rock and threw her head back with a graceful whinny.

          Stanley took Fiddleford’s arm and guided him outside. “It’s okay, Fidds. You’re awesome. She just doesn’t know what she’s talkin’ about.”

           “She’s sexist,” Dan huffed as they left. “If you were girl, she’d had let you take as much hair as you want. Unicorns are judgement hoof bags.”

          Stanley crossed his arms. “There’s got to be something we can do!”

          Nick glared back at the closed gate and then brightened. “Hey! You know, my dog doesn’t like getting his hair cut. So, we make him sleep. Let’s knock her out and shave her!”

           “Hey!” Stanley gasped, a wide smile relaxing his features. “That sounds like a great idea!”

          Dan looked between them. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

           “It doesn’t,” Fiddleford agreed. “She might not be the nicest person, but there’s got to be somethin’ we can try.”

          Stanley turned on him. “Dude, she said _you_ were a bad person. There’s _no_ dealing with her.”

           “Maybe so, but…” Fiddleford looked back at the gate and shook his head. “How about Ah just think of a way to get her hair without harmin’ her. If you guys find a way to get that hair before me, Ah guess we’ll just have to do it your way.”

          Stanley shook his head. “Nah, man. We’re not leavin’ you here.”

          Fiddleford sat down, cross legged, and looked through his notes. “Ah’ll be fine, Stanley.”

           “Psst.” Dan nodded his head to the clump of trees nearby and stopped outside of Fiddleford’s range of hearing, which was very, very short as he concentrated on what he was doing. “Look, that pony isn’t going to give us her hair.”

          Nick crossed his arms. “But we need it.”

           “We do,” Dan agreed. “Which is why we’re going to get it one way or the other.”

          Nick smiled. “Are you suggesting–?”

           “Violence?” Hank finished, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t smile like his friend.

           “I have a crossbow!” Stanley pointed out. “And Grauntie Mabel said she had a crowbar under the couch!”

           “No,” Dan countered. “We’re going to have to find something else… something to knock her out, not kill her. Who would know how to knock out a unicorn…?”

 

          Deeper in the forest, they came across a town of gnomes. One gnarled, twisted tree held a door between two large roots. A sign reading “GNASTY’S” hung above the door. On the root was a picket sign saying: “SQUIRREL PARKING IN BACK”.

          Foxes, gnomes, birds, and other small critters gathered inside of the pub. One gnome sat on a stool in front of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your daintiest honeysuckle.”

           “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

          The door burst open as Stanley kicked it in.

           “It’s the cops!” One of the gnomes at the table cried. “Hit the deck!” One gnome dove away from his table and crashed into something.

          Stanley and Nick came in through the doorway, hunched over as the ceiling was not big enough for them. Stanley announced, “I’m lookin’ for someone who knows how to take down a unicorn. No tricks or games!”

          Nick smashed the nearest bottle and held it up. “We’re human! We take what we want!”

           “Fairy dust.” The grizzled voice came from a dark corner. A survival knife half the size of the gnome stabbed into the wooden table. A wooden cup filled with orange liquid sat on the table next to a cracked peanut. The gray-haired, tattered gnome who spoke didn’t look up. Instead, one hand was on the table with his fingers spread. He stabbed a sharpened acorn in the wood between each finger. He put down the acorn, retracted his hand, and looked up. “A whole magic bag’s enough to put a unicorn out cold.” He picked up his cup. “But if I do you a favor, you gotta do somethin’ for me.” He took a sip of his drink.

           “Spill it, Half-pint!” Stanley demanded. The humans, all but Dan, gathered around the table. Dan sat outside, watching the bar. No other living creature dare moved.

          The gnome put his hands together. “Butterfly trafficking is illegal in this part of the forest, but I like butterflies.” He smiled and put his hands on his bearded face. “They tickle my face and make me laugh.” He grew serious and put his hands down. “Bring me a bag of butterflies and we got a deal.” The boys looked at each other and nodded.

          Outside, a butterfly landed on a flower. A bug net swooped down upon it.

 

          Fiddleford, once the boys were gone, put away his notebook and walked into the glade. He was careful to take off his shoes. Celestabellebethabelle looked back at him. “What are you doing back here?”

           “Ah would like to apologize, Celestabellebethabelle,” Fiddleford admitted. “My friends… they’re rambunctious and don’t understand too well this situation. But Lee is genuinely trying to save us. He might not be pure of heart, but he’s a noble bein’. Ah know Ah’m not the best person either, but we’re really tryin’.” He put his hands in his pocket. “Ah understand that asking a favor of ya without offerin’ a favor in return can be rude. So, to apologize, Ah have this.” He brought out an oval shaped brush with a loop on one side and bristles on the other as well as a two-sided brush with clumps of soft bristles on one side and long, thin, spread apart bristles on the other side.

           “What are those? Brushes?” Celestabellebethabelle prompted. “I have those.”

           “Ah figured as much,” Fiddleford admitted. “Most of my family live on a hog farm. We had a few horses. Ah visit there oft’n. These are special horse brushes. They don’t work on humans.”

          Celestabellebethabelle lowered her head and looked them over. “How does that loop one supposed to work?”

           “It brushes your fur,” Fiddleford answered.

           “Hmm… show me how it works.” Celestabellebethabelle lay down in front of him. “Don’t pull out my hair.”

           “I won’t,” Fiddleford promised. “If any hair gets in the brush, I’ll put it in this bag for you. I won’t take it if you don’t want me to.” He pulled out a bag and stood next to her head. He set down the scrubber brush one, flipped over the other brush so that the long, spread apart bristles were down, and gently ran it through her rainbow mane.

 

          Dan, Nick, and Stanley hid in a bush nearby. The tattered gnome, wearing sunglasses and hands in his pocket, leaned against a tree trunk. Hank, sunglasses on with a bag in his hand, stood nearby with his back to him. The gnome turned around and held out the two bags of fairy dust. Hank traded it from the jar of butterflies. “Two bags of fairy dust, just like we agreed.”

          Hank looked into one of them. “Where do you get this stuff?”

          The gnome admired his jar. “Everyone likes sausage, but no one likes to know how it’s made.”

           “You disgust me,” Hank huffed.

           “You got your poison; I got me. We made a deal,” the gnome pointed out.

          Hank turned around. “Yeah, well the deal is _off!_ ” A bunch of gnomes in police uniforms as well as a deer with a red light on its head jumped out of the bushes. “Freeze you’re under arrest! Get down! Get down!” the police gnomes shouted. The boys joined Hank.

          The gnome dropped his jar and got on his knees. “These butterflies aren’t mine!” The nearest police gnome handcuffed him. “I swear! I’ve been framed!”

          The policeman next to Stanley adjusted his belt. “Tell it to the adorable owl we’ve dressed as a judge.” He held out his hand. “My cut.”

          Stanley dropped a small bag into his hand.

 

          The night stars spread out above them. The boys, quick and quiet, rushed to the door and opened it as quietly as they could. When they got inside, they stopped and stared at the scene ahead of them.

          Fiddleford brushed out the pretty deep blue mane of an aquamarine unicorn. Three bags stuffed full of hair were beside him. One bag had a few rainbow strands sticking out. Another had red strands. The third, which was open, was almost full of blue hair. Celestabellebethabelle, her mane and tail pretty and perfect and her coat shiny, looked over a book given to her. “These recipes are amazing! Why don’t we have these now?”

          The hot pink unicorn with violet and magenta hair beside the aquamarine unicorn, his mane and fur brushed as well, flipped his mane. “Well, we don’t talk to humans, remember?”

           “Why is this one good?” the aquamarine unicorn with indigo and white hair, also a male, prompted.

           “I like horses and mythical creatures is all,” Fiddleford explained. “I believe if you treat someone with respect, they’ll treat ya back.” He looked back at the boys. When he turned his head, they discovered a rainbow flower in his neatly combed hair. “Oh, howdy! I was wonderin’ where ya’ll went.”

          Celestabellebethabelle didn’t look up from her book of horse soaps. “I’m allowing _him_ to have the hair. He’s got a heart as pure as any maiden.”

          Fiddleford smiled and gently plucked the loose hairs from his brush into the bag. “Aw shucks, Celestabellebethabelle. That’s kind of ya to say!”

          The blue unicorn looked at the bag that Stanley held. “And what’s that?”

          Stanley put away the bag. “…nothin’. You got the hair?”

          Fiddleford nodded, tied the blue hair bag, and got up. He clutched all three bags in his hands. “Yep! Thank ya for the hair. Ya’ll keep the brushes.”

           “Oh, right. Goodbye.” The aquamarine unicorn stated.

           “Goodbye,” Celestabellebethabelle agreed as did the hot pink unicorn.

          Fiddleford walked out of the unicorn fortress with everyone else. “I think they like me.”

          Dan looked at Fiddleford. “Why didn’t she say that in the first place?”

          Fiddleford shrugged. “I think she was just threatened by all of ya’ll and tired of giving people things without bein’ given somethin’ in return.”

          Stanley huffed. “Too bad I couldn’t get that treasure.”

          Fiddleford took out a small box and handed it to Stanley. “Unicorn eyelashes and magic glitter. I think Mrs. Pines will appreciate it.”

          Stanley punched him in the arm. “Man, you’re awesome!”

 

          In Grunkle Dipper’s lab, Stanford sit sat on the stool with the mind machine on. He glanced back at the largest monitor, that read “SCANNING THOUGHTS: 15%” “Ugh! This is taking too long.” He put his hands on the helmet. “How long have I had this thing on?” His gaze fell on his great uncle, who was sitting on his desk, head on his folded arms, and deep asleep. Reading glasses sat skewed on his face. “Why does Great Uncle Dipper have to be so mysterious about everything? I can handle the truth. Definitely.”

          Behind him, his thoughts spoke aloud. “ _I wonder what Great Uncle Dipper is thinking.” “Use the machine!” “It’ll show you is thoughts.”_

          Stanford sighed. “That’s a bad idea. I really shouldn’t…”

          _“He won’t know,”_ his thoughts on the machine contradicted. _“He’s going to tell you eventually.” “The more you know about Bill, the more you can help.”_

          Stanford smirked. “I’m good at rationalizing.”

          _“Yes, you are!”_ the machine agreed, the thought repeating over and over again.

          Stanford walked over to Grunkle Dipper and took off his own helmet. He set it on the sleeping old man’s head. “Just a peek…” He turned around to look at the monitors. “What are you hiding about Bill?”

          The screen immediately changed. As he wasn’t conscious, his thoughts were translated into pictures. Bill dominated the largest screen, blue fire reigning chaos behind him. He cackled his bone-chilling laugh. The main screen flicked to one of Grunkle Dipper tossing and turning, unable to sleep. In one of the smaller monitors, a younger version of Mrs. Chiu had Dipper in a corner. “What are you hiding? Where are you getting all these ideas? Who are you working with?” The portal, working, was on another monitor.

          The screens changed. The main one was the “TRUST NO ONE” page, where he was writing the words. The left top monitor stated in bold red words “I’M LOSING” the monitor next to it said in the same format “MY MIND”.

          The screens changed again. The main showed Grunkle Dipper talking with Stanford again. “He would trick or possess anyone.” The top two screens showed his eyes behind glasses. Then, it changed. The main screen held Dipper in his youth, one hand extended and his eyes bright. He stood in what looked like the universe, or dreamscape. The other two monitors just stayed focused on his face. “So, it’s a deal- from now until the end of time.”

          The screen switched to Bill, his burning hand extended. “ **JUST LET ME INTO YOUR MIND, MASON!** ” The top screens were close-ups of Bill’s eye.

          The main screen switched to show them both, shaking hands. Blue fire burned over both of their hands and wrists. “Please,” Dipper stated. “Call me… a friend.”

          Worst of all was the last screen, where Dipper, his pupils in slits and eyes yellow, laughed in the double voice of himself and Bill.

           “D-Dipper and Bill?” Stanford breathed. There was a shuffle behind him. Stanford whipped around.

          Grunkle Dipper, completely awake, pushed himself out of his chair and away from his desk. The poor glow reflected off his reading glasses, revealing nothing but what was on the screen. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he stated in a somber voice. He took off the helmet and attempted to put it down. It fell and clattered to the ground. The sheets were pulled off the walls. Stanford’s eyes grew round and his heartbeat skyrocketed. Paintings of Bill dominated the space as well as a gold statue. His one eye stared down at him from all angles.

          Stanford gulped and turned to confront his great uncle. “Why were you shaking hands with Bill?” was all he could choke out. “You said Bill could possess anyone so he could get this!” Stanford’s gaze flicked to the rift beside him. He snatched it and gasped as, in his rush, he nearly dropped it.

           “Careful!” Grunkle Dipper held out one hand and walked toward him. Stanford withdrew into himself and, with each stride Grunkle Dipper took, Stanford took two. “Hand me the rift,” Grunkle Dipper ordered, his voice going soft.

          Stanford had to physically stop himself from obeying the order and instead backed away further.  “Why were you really scanning my thoughts?” Stanford demanded. His gaze flicked to the memory gun on the table. He snatched it and pointed it at Grunkle Dipper. “Are you Bill? Right now?”

           “Stanford, stop this. You’re going to break that,” Grunkle Dipper countered as he continued to advance. “Hand me the rift. Calm down, S–”

           “Six-Fingers?” Stanford blurted out. “Is that what you were going to say?”

           “I was going to say _Stanford_.” Grunkle Dipper denied.

          Stanford’s back hit the wall. His breath immediately started to come in gasps. The gun shook in his hand. “I was told to p-protect the rift! Stay back o-or I’ll erase you right out of Grunkle Dipper’s head!”

          Grunkle Dipper held up his hands. “It’s me, Stanford. Your uncle. Trust me.” It became uncharacteristically calm and soft. This only caused him to clutch the rift tighter.

          Stanford bristled and shut his eyes tight. “Trust no one, trust no one, trust no one,” he repeated under his breath, unable to control what he was saying now. The bulb on the memory gun cast a blue-white glow over them.

          Grunkle Dipper tensed. “Hand it to me!”

          The light burst and a ray hit Grunkle Dipper square in the forehead. It bounced off and ricocheted off the walls. The two dove to the floor, hands over their heads. The rift hid under Stanford’s chest. Eventually, the beam smashed the monitor of the main TV and vanished.

          Stanford looked about and grabbed the memory gun. He reached for the rift, but his hand fell short as his great uncle picked him up by the back of his jacket and held him out of reach of the ground. The memory gun fell out of Stanford’s hands as he was lifted. “Let go of me!” Stanford demanded and thrashed about.

           “Calm down!” Grunkle Dipper ordered. “Look into my eyes.” He shifted his glasses so that they no longer reflected the odd light. “Look at my pupils. It’s me, Stanford.” Indeed, his pupils were round and ordinary.

          Stanford stopped struggling. Grunkle Dipper set him down. “I-I tried to erase your mind. I’m so sorry.”

          Grunkle Dipper relaxed. “No, it’s fine. My mind can’t be erased, remember?” He knocked on his head again. “If it really was Bill, you would have done very well. I should have been more like you when I was young.” Grunkle Dipper sighed and started pacing. He set his glasses on the desk. Stanford sat down on the stool in front of the broken monitor. “Stanford, I was a fool to hide all of this. The reason I’ve been preparing you for Bill’s tricks is because _I_ was tricked. It’s the biggest regret of my life. Long, long ago, I used to think of Bill as my friend, not my enemy.”

          Stanford watched him pace. How could someone like Great Uncle Dipper be so foolish?

           “When I was younger, I had hit a roadblock in my investigations,” Grunkle Dipper explained. “That was, until I found some mysterious writing in a cave. It warned me not to read the incantations on the wall that spoke about having the answers I needed. But I was desperate. When I tried reading the inscriptions aloud, nothing happened… until later that afternoon.” Grunkle Dipper chewed on his lip and tangled and untangled his fingers from each other. “Until that afternoon when I had the most peculiar dream. The birches around me grew eyes with slit pupils. Suddenly, I was lifted into this weird, abstract place full of journals and pages and objects that floated about me. I was confused- until Bill came. He startled me with one of his over-the-top greetings. I didn’t know who he was. So, when I asked, he introduced himself as Bill. He recited my whole name and my fate to change the world. But then he decided to skip that part and play a game of chess. He explained to me how he was a muse and he chose one brilliant mind a century to inspire.”

          Grunkle Dipper sighed. “What a fool I was, blinded by flattery and games. He became my research assistant, my friend. He was allowed to move in and out of my body as he pleased. He told me of a gateway I could build that would lead into another dimension. We were partners and I trusted him. I deluded myself into thinking he trusted me and he was a good Muse. When he told me I could complete my research by building a gateway into other worlds, I believed him. This is how he said genius happened- a little help from a friend.”

          Grunkle Dipper’s fingernails turned red as he inadvertently scratched himself. “I thought I was on the verge of my greatest achievement… until my partner got a glimpse of Bill’s true plans. He lied to me and when I confronted him about it, he just laughed. He told me how dumb I was and how, when the portal got to working, how my dimension ‘is gunna learn how to party!’ I saw his friends on the other side of a rift, a horror show. I defied him, said I was going to shut off the portal. But I’d already made a deal and he reminded me of it. He thought it would be cute to see me try to stop an unstoppable force.

           “So, I shut the portal down, which severed the link between Bill’s world and ours. I had to hide all of the instructions so no one could ever finish Bill’s work. Ever since then, Bill’s been waiting for the rift to gateway to open.” He looked down at the rift and picked it up. “All he needs to do is get his hands on this rift. To Bill, it’s just a game. But to us, it would mean the end of our world.”

          Stanford looked over at the discarded picture of the skull and Bill. He creased the middle portion so that the “OUR WORLD” picture and the “NIGHTMARE REALM” picture fit together. “Oh man,” Stanford breathed.

           “Oh man, indeed,” Grunkle Dipper agreed.

 

          Stanford and Grunkle Dipper sat at the table with two cans of Pitt Cola. Dipper had washed off his hands and wrapped a paper towel around his knuckles. Stanford sighed. “I’m so embarrassed about earlier.” Grunkle Dipper handed him a can of soda and he took it. “I’m so dumb!”

           “From now on, no more secrets between us,” Grunkle Dipper stated. “We’re not the only two idiots to be tricked by Bill. But, if we work together, we can be the last.”

           “But what about Bill?” Stanford blurted out. “I broke the machine! Now we have no way to protect the Shack!”

          Stanley slammed a fist on the table. “Did someone say ‘ _unicorn hair’_?” he exclaimed. Fiddleford held up three bags of the stuff, a grin lighting up his face. The rainbow flower was still in his hair. Dan, Hank, and Nick stood behind them, equally as happy.

           “No…?” Stanford answered.

           “Oh. Well, that would have been perfect,” Stanley admitted.

           “We have the hair, though!” Fiddleford set the bags down on the table.

           “And some fairy dust!” Stanley agreed as he held up the bag of fairy dust.

           “That’s perfect!” Grunkle Dipper nodded and stood up. “I am honestly very surprised. Good jo- wait. Fairy dust?” He looked over the bag in Stanley’s hand.

           “The stuff that knocked me out?” Stanford agreed.

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah!”

           “…may I have it?” Grunkle Dipper requested. Stanley put it on the table. Grunkle Dipper immediately hid it from sight. “Yes, well… good. This unicorn hair is perfect to protect the Shack.”

          Stanley looked up at him. “We didn’t actually fight them. Fidds over here got it for us!”

          Fiddleford nodded, his grin turning into a bashful smile. “They liked having their hair brushed. They also like shampoo and make-up.”

           “I’ll have to write that down. Anyway, you kids did a very good job.” Grunkle Dipper gave them a grand smile.

          Grauntie Mabel raced into the living room. “Oh, would you look at that! You found a unicorn!”

          Stanley nodded and held out a box. “And your cut.”

          Mabel took the box and looked inside. “Unicorn eyelashes?” she gasped and then smiled. “Who wants fudge ice cream and double chocolate cookies?”

 

          Stanford finished gluing the last piece of unicorn hair to the Shack. End to end, the unicorn hair ran in an unbroken line around the whole Shack. The line glowed and then the glow expanded and morphed into a giant circle a few feet outside of the Shack’s farther reach to create a dome. For a moment, the dome glowed and runes and unicorns flared. Then, it settled and faded away.

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Good. This will protect us from Bill! As long as we’re inside, our minds are safe.”

 

          In the dreamscape, Bill watched the scene through a bubble. “ **I GUESS I CAN’T POSSESS ANYONE INSIDE THE SHACK, SO I'LL JUST HAVE TO FIND MY NEXT PAWN ON THE…** ” His voice got deeper and slower. **“… _OUTSIDE_.** ” His eye changed colors and flashed between images of different people.

 

 **F** BWMG TNH OM **F** STRCIQPU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Stan **ford**. Fiddle **ford**. Word play.  
>  Mabel and Dipper have dealt with unicorns before, as shown _vigenère_ by the journal's and Mabel randomly keeping a crowbar with her. In addition, boys _unicorn_ don't go on unicorn quests! What are you talking about? That's totally a girl thing. ...hehe
> 
> Fiddleford's part was inspired by this picture: http://hereissomething.tumblr.com/post/129225302114/ive-dealt-with-unicorns-before-and-if-i-had-to


	12. Roadside Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shack is now under the unicorn spell's protection! Bill can't come inside and everyone within its barrier is safe.
> 
> Why not take a roadtrip?

          The young day’s sun warmed the valley and glinted off the metal of the RV parked in front of the Mystery Shack. Blue with swirls of pink, “PINES MABILE” was spray painted over the glitter accented side. Grauntie Mabel, now wearing a purple pine-tree-sun-set sweater, slapped on a “CAUTION: FOXY GRANDMA AT THE WHEEL!” sticker on the back. She looked back as Fiddleford approached with too much in his hands. “Remember: Don’t forget the bug spray! And the sunscreen! I don’t want to tow around a car full of sunburnt, mosquito-eaten kids! I don’t have the insurance to cover that again.” She chuckled to herself. Little pinecone earrings dangled off her ears.

          Stanford looked up at the RV. “An RV? Camping Gear? …Grauntie Mabel, are you trying to get us to ‘beautify’ more monuments?”

          Fiddleford, crouched on top of the RV and strapping down bags, called, “Ford, it’s the ultimate Oregon road trip!”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Yep! We’re going out to see the sun, smell the forest, and maybe glitter-fy some tourist traps. What? Every year, my tourist trap competitors prank the Mystery Shack. Last year, those hooligans duck taped Fiddle to the ceiling.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “It… wasn’t a fun twenty-four hours.” Ford tried not to slip into a mood. Who would be heartless enough to duck-tape _Fidds_ of all people to the ceiling?

           “Well no more!” Grauntie Mabel declared and pulled out a map of Oregon. There were a few places that had been circled red. She handed it to Ford to look over. “This year, we’re visiting every tourist trap along the Redwood Highway, and we’re going to prank back every single one of them!”

          Nick, running around the Mystery Shack with a backpack over his shoulders, laughed, “Woo! Time to let the road dogs _out!_ ”

           “That is us,” Hank announced as they walked, a backpack over his shoulder as well. “We’re the road dogs.”

          Stanley strolled up to his brother. “Thanks for letting me bring Nick and Hank along, Grauntie Mabel!”

           “The more the merrier!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “Now come on! Let’s see if we can get to the first attraction before lunch!” She hopped into the RV after Hank and Nick.

          Stanford looked at the RV. He about opened his mouth to claim Gompers needed looking after when Fiddleford jumped off the RV and landed right in front of him. Stanford took a step back, eyes wide in surprise. “What do you say, Ford?”

          Stanley patted the bag on the ground. “I even packed a bunch of your things! Because I knew you were coming along.”

          Fiddleford smiled. “It’ll be fun!”

          Stanley leaned toward him, “Besides, I’m sure we’ll see a bunch of new monsters out there!”

           “And new people,” Fiddleford offered.

          Stanley grinned and narrowed his eyes. “I call front seat!” He darted into the RV.

           “Hey, it’s my turn!” Stanford raced after Stanley. Fiddleford shut the door behind them as they ran inside.

 

          Fiddleford, victorious, leaned out the passenger front window. Hank, Nick, Stanley, and Stanford sat in a table, Hank and Nick sitting together with Stanley and Stanford across from them. Nick looked about. “Wow! I’ve never been in a moving vehicle _with a table!_ ” He looked under the table.

          Hank watched Nicolas with an amused smirk. “Did you find any treasure?”

           “Nope! Some green gum, blue gum and- oooooh! What’s this? A paperclip? Who puts a paperclip in gum?” Nick answered, his voice muffled by the seat. “Oh, wait! One of the travel pamphlets fell!”

          Hank picked up a pamphlet from the “shelf” on the table under the window. “I haven’t read these ones before.”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Oh, those old things! Eh, I mean, you can read them. Honestly, though, the only old travel guide you’ll need is me.” Her gaze flicked to a large sign bearing a giant ball of yarn and a tiny old woman. “Look alive! We’re coming up on our first attraction! I respect her, honestly. She has the biggest ball of yarn I’d ever seen! But, you know, she set my car on fire on two nonconsecutive occasions. We were pen-pals for a while… until she broke the gift shop window with a giant knitting needle.”

          Fiddleford turned to her. “Why’d she do that?”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “I don’t know! I mean, I was the nicest person! I even helped decorate her car. Wasn’t sparkly enough, in my opinion.”

          Stanford piped up, “Grauntie Mabel, does she like glitter?”

           “Well of course! Who _doesn’t_ like glitter?” The car light ticked as the RV turned. She turned around the RV so that it was backed into a space very close to the ball of yarn, which was almost twice as tall as the RV.

          The kids stopped in front of it and looked up. “Whoa.”

          Mabel grinned. “Impressive, right? Whoever finds one end of the string first gets first pick of lunch!”

           “Yeah!” Hank, Nicolas, Stanley, and Fiddleford ran to the ball of yarn. While Hank and Fiddleford stayed at the edge and pawed through it, Nicolas and Stanley jumped right in. Stanford stayed by the back bumper of the RV.

           “What’s up, kid?” Grauntie Mabel prompted and leaned on the back of the RV.

           “Huh? Oh! I, uh, I’m going to tie the yarn,” Stanford informed her.

           “Wow, someone’s acting a bit weirder than usual,” she pointed out. “Never been in an RV before?”

           “No! No I, uh, I haven’t,” Ford answered. He beat himself inwardly. _That was too fast! She’s going to be suspicious, now!_

          Unfortunately, Ford’s suspicions were confirmed. “Hey, Fordsy. You know you can talk to me, right?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. However, her concerned frown slowly turned into a grin that Ford could only associate with a fox meeting an unlocked hen house. Ford quickly looked away. _Oh no._ “So, who’s the lucky kid?”

           “L-lucky kid?” Stanford stammered. He could feel his cheeks heating up. He cleared his throat. “Uh, what do you mean?”

           “Goodness, kid! You are the cutest thing!” Grauntie Mabel got down on one knee so that she was relatively level with Stanford. “You know what I’m talking about, Champ. Hey, don’t look so embarrassed! You know, back in my day, I was a total match-maker. I could get anyone where they needed to go.” Her grin softened into a smile. “…the boys are still looking for the yarn so it’s just you and me.”

          Stanford cleared his throat and looked away. “Uh… it’s, um… it’s no one, really.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

           “Is it someone we know?” she asked.

          Before he could stop himself, he nodded. “I-I mean, sure, yes. H- we do.”

          Grauntie Mabel thought for a moment. “You really are the cutest thing, Fordsy! There’s nothing to be shy of!” She ruffled his hair and stood up. “Try talking to ’em like a normal person. Whatever you do: _don’t_ get too overly complicated, okay? You’ll get in your own way. Hehe. When Dipper was a kid, he got so nervous meeting this lady, he made a giant overly complicated list and ended up tripping over himself. But when he finally put that list away, he was a little champ! I’m sure if my awkward little brother could find himself a date, you can, too.”

           “Ford!” Stanley called. Stanford turned his attention to his brother, who held the line. Stanford raced to Stanley’s side, took the line, and ran back to the RV. He rolled a few lines onto the bumper and tied it down. Grauntie Mabel waved her hand to the others and ran to the door. The kids followed in her shadow. As soon as they were buckled down, Grauntie Mabel drove out into the street. They watched as the ball bounced and skipped after them, shrinking all the while.

          Granny Sweetkin gasped. “Why you gall darn girl of a no good-!” She took a needle out of the “World Largest Pair of Knitting Needles” and chucked it at the RV. “I’ll get you Mabel Pines!”

          They passed a road sign in the shape of an upside-down house painted over orange. Giant red words were painted at the top: “YOU’RE NOT HALLUCINATING!” In slightly smaller red letters were the words, “Just 30 miles to Upside-Down Town!!!”

 

          The RV stopped outside of an upside-down house. A set of ladders led up to a red-carpeted wheel, which was connected to the door of the house. “Ah Upside-Down Town,” Grauntie Mabel sighed. “The nausea capital of the state. Whatever you do, don’t use the bathrooms.”

           “Road dogs! Road dogs!” Hank, Nick, and Stanley shouted as the kids ran to a shoe box with special Velcro-bottom shoes. As soon as they got into the wheel, it rolled around so that they were upside down.

          The kids scattered to look about the place. Hank had to grab Nicolas many times as the boy would often take both feet off the ground to bounce himself forward. In an upside-down house, this meant he’d fall. So, Hank had to grab him and put him back on occasion. Stanley took out his camera. “Hey, Fidds! Mind taking a picture of me?”

           “Uh, sure!” Fiddleford took the camera from him and held it up. Stanley pretended to scream. The camera flashed. “There! Wow, you look freaked out.”

           “Yeah, my hair isn’t that long, though.” Stanley took the camera from him and smiled. “But yours is! Ford! Get over here!”

          Stanford, careful to keep at least once foot on the ground, walked over to where Stanley and Fiddleford stood at the window. “Okay, get ready! Hmm… pretend there’s a monster behind me!” Fiddleford immediately clung to Stanford’s side and pointed at the camera. Ford put an arm around him and held a hand up. Stanley booed, “Come on, bro! You can do better!”

           “I-I’m trying!” Stanford huffed. “I just have a head ru-uuuuush!” He yelled in fright as, after he lifted one foot to take a step back, he began to slip out of the other shoe. Fiddleford immediately tightened his grip around Stanford and brought him back. The camera flashed. “STANLEY!”

           “On it!” Stanley shoved the camera in his pocket and grabbed Stanford by the other arm. Stanford planted both feet firmly on the ground. “Ha-ha! That one looked real!”

           “Because it _was_ real!” Stanford grumbled.

           “Cheer up, Ford,” Fiddleford piped up. “There’s a gift shop downstairs if ya want to go back to standing right-side-up.”

           “You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Stanford replied and carefully walked to the other end of the roof.

          Stanley whispered as he walked past, “I untied your shoe.” He clicked his tongue and ran to the other side of the house, where he could jump onto the ground.

          Stanford gasped and then glared at him. “Stanley, you traitor!” Stanford ran after him. Unfortunately, he lost tracking with the ground and fell. Fiddleford helped him up. “Thanks,” Stanford muttered.

           “What did Lee do?” Fiddleford’s eyebrows contracted and he set his full attention on Stanford.

          Stanford rolled his eyes. “Ah, he untied my shoe. For a better picture, I bet.”

          Fiddleford frowned and looked back. “Well, that isn’t right, even if it was fer a picture.”

           “Nah, he’s fine,” Stanford denied with a wave of his hand. A smirk crept onto his features. He lowered his voice so that only Fiddleford could hear him. “Besides, our next stop is Log Land and I’m forcing him into one of the rides.”

           “Log Land? The water place?” Fiddleford echoed. “What’s wrong with that?”

           “Stanley is super scared of heights,” Stanford explained. “I’m really surprised he stayed up here. Do you think we’re getting lunch after this?”

           “Hopefully!” Fiddleford nodded. “I’m starved! Stanley found the yarn, though, so it’s his pick.”

           “Ooooh, right,” Stanford agreed. “We should ask Grauntie Mabel if we’re leaving yet.”

          The house shuttered. Fiddleford looked to the exit. “I reckon we should be leaving now.”

          Stanford nodded and ran outside, Fiddleford at his side. Once they were outside, along with most everyone else, they found the house tipping. Stanley, Hank, Nicolas, and Grauntie Mabel were not out with the rest of the crowd. The house tipped onto its side and then, after a bit of wobbling, fell right-side-up. Mabel ran outside like her hair was on fire. She pointed to the RV. There was no hesitance in jumping into the vehicle and driving off.

          Grauntie Mabel laughed, “Not so upside-down now!”

          A woman walking her dog passed up the house. “What a lovely normal home!”

           “Mabel Pines!” an employee of the tourist trap yelled.

 

          Mabel, one hand on the steering wheel and one elbow on the door, glanced at Stanley. Stanley, now in the passenger side, looked out the window. “Lunch time, Lee. Pick out whatever you want!”

           “Thanks, Grauntie Mabel!”

          Hank and Nicolas sat across from Fiddleford and Stanford. Nick kept a hand on his head. “Ahhhh I fell.”

          Hank shook his head. “You really should stop jumping everywhere.”

          Stanford raised a hand. “Are you hurt?”

          Hank shook his head. “He’s just whining. He’ll be over it in a few minutes.”

          Nicolas pouted and narrowed his eyes at Hank. “My head really hurts, though!”

          Hank laugh-huffed. “You said that at Hoo-Ha’s Jamboree after falling out of the ball pit. You were able to recite every single word of Hoo-Ha’s songs right after you fell.”

          Nicolas didn’t respond, though he kept his pout.

          Stanford looked between them. “How long have you two been friends?”

           “Forever,” Nicolas replied with a casual shrug.

           “As long as we can remember,” Hank replied. “Our moms work together. They’ve been friends for life, too.”

           “Wow. Everyone knows each other,” Stanford mused. “For so long, too.”

           “Do you live in one of the big cities?” Hank prompted.

           “Stanley and I live in a small city, sort of. It’s on the beach. Most of the place is factories and shops and small houses. But everyone still knows everyone in our area,” Stanford explained. “You can’t get away from it, either, since no one moves. No one’s rich enough to move. At least where I live.”

           “Man, you make it sound terrible,” Nicolas stated. His hand was no longer on his head. “Is it really _that bad?_ ”

           “S-sometimes!” Stanford sat up straight. “I mean, there are plenty of good people there. It’s, uh, not as open as here. There’s lots of space and most people are really nice. …Have you lived here long, Fidds? You, uh, don’t talk like everyone else.” _You don’t talk like everyone else. Nice going, singling him out, genius!_

           “Me?” Fidds echoed. “Oh! You’re thinkin’ of my accent. I was born on the hog farm in Tennessee, but came here when I was young ta live with my grandpa. I was real young back then, but I never really lost my cousins and aunts and uncles. So, I still talk like them.”

          Nicolas pointed out, “I don’t normally see you at school. How old are you, anyway?”

           “Thirteen,” Fiddleford answered. “I, uh, keep ta myself most of the time.” Stanford caught himself thinking of the familiarity between him and Fiddleford.

          Stanley turned around. “Yo, nerds! We’re getting lunch at that diner!”

 

          The next attraction they approached was Log Land. “I remember this place,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “I was pen-pals with one of the owners. We had a bit of a falling out and she flipped my car upside down and graffitied the side of the Shack.” Grauntie Mabel picked up a crate with some sort of animal in it, gave them the thumbs up, and ran off into the park.

          Stanford took Stanley by the wrist and ran off into the park. Fiddleford followed them as quickly as they could. Tubes missing their tops swirled through the whole place. Water rushed down through them and logs filled with people rushed through the tubes with the water. Stanford stopped behind a line. “Come with us on a ride?”

           “Uh, no thanks. I don’t want to get wet,” Stanley declined.

          Fiddleford tipped his head. “You’ve never said that before.”

           “We won’t really get wet,” Stanford pointed out with a wave of his hand. A sly smile crept upon his features. “Or are you just chicken?”

           “Chicken? Me? Psssh, no.” Stanley crossed his arms. “I just don’t want to get wet.”

           “Chicken!” Stanford teased. “Bo-gawk!”

           “I’m not a chicken!” Stanley huffed. “You know what? Fine! I’ll show you. I’m not a chicken.”

 

          Indeed, Stanley was the first onto the log ride, with Stanford, Fiddleford, and a fourth person next to them. He smirked at Stanford and put on his seatbelt. However, he looked over the rim of the log ride, as they were in the very front. His smile froze and his eyes went wide.

           “Please keep all arms and legs inside the log at all times.” As the announcer spoke, two workers on each side checked their seat belts and the metal-and-foam harnesses that folded over them.

           “Oh no,” Stanley breathed. “C-can I get off?”

           “Please stay inside of the log until the log has come to a complete stop and you have been instructed to leave. Have a nice ride.” The announcer turned off his microphone. The log shuttered and drifted forward as it was freed from the metal holders keeping it in place.

          Stanford grinned and looked over the top of the log. Stanley clutched his harness so tightly his fingers turned white. Fiddleford looked at Stanford and Stanley and then in front of him. The log tipped forward and the fell. Stanley screamed as the log plummeted down one of the slides. Fiddleford shut his eyes tight and gripped the harness. Stanford howled and threw his arms up.

          Water splashed and soaked them as they twisted and turned and even landed with a hearty _splash!_ into a pool. The log slowed down considerably and drifted through an ill-lit tunnel. Stanford laughed like a maniac. Fiddleford opened his eyes and looked about. Stanley stayed frozen in his seat, hands on his harness and eyes shut tight. The tunnel opened up into light. For a moment, they couldn’t see the rest of the track. That was until it tipped forward. This revealed the rest of the track on an extremely steep slope. Something flashed as they fell. The log slowed and then shuttered to a stop as they entered the second station.

          Stanford jumped up once it was time to leave and hopped off the ride. Stanley stumbled unsteadily onto the wooden floor of the ride. Fiddleford, shaky on his feet, stepped off the ride as well. “Let’s go see if they took our picture!” Stanford encouraged. He took Fiddleford by the hand and helped lead him to the gift shop. Stanley, now that he was on solid ground, followed at nearly the same pace.

          Connected to the gift shop was a room full of screens. On one of them was the ride they were on. Stanford looked absolutely thrilled. Stanley had drawn into himself. Fiddleford looked plain terrified. Although the picture was a bit expensive, the three of them chipped in to buy one copy. Stanford breathed as they left, “We’ll use the copier machine when we get home.” He raised his voice to a normal tone. “Wasn’t that fun?”

          Stanley, his breathing level normal again and his back straight, huffed, “No.”

          Fiddleford, a hand on his chest, shook his head. “D-definitely not!”

           “You didn’t have to go, Fidds,” Stanford offered.

          Fiddleford gave him a slight smile. “O-o’ course I did, Ford! I couldn’t’ve walked to the next station all by myself.”

           “Hey!” Nicolas ran up to them, a log hat on his head. “Whoa! What happened to you guys?”

          Stanford pointed to the ride behind him. “I convinced them to go with me.”

          Hank sauntered up to them. “You look plain terrified. Mrs. Pines is waiting for us. She says to hurry.”

           “Got it!” The kids ran back to the RV, where Grauntie Mabel waved her hand to get them to hurry up.

          As soon as they got in, Grauntie Mabel drove off, laughing like a maniac all the while. She looked to the passenger seat, where Fiddleford sat. “What happened to you, kid?”

           “We rode one of the water rides,” Fiddleford replied.

           “I thought Stanley wa- didn’t like rides like those,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out.

          Fiddleford glanced into the back seat. “Stanford convinced us both.”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “That little rapscallion!”

 

          The last place they arrived was the Corn Maze. “Oh! Man, the Corn Maze. I’m not good at mazes. These people dumped me in the middle of the maze, once, and it took me the rest of the day to get out!” They didn’t stay at the maze for long. The kids got out just long enough to stretch their legs and run about. By now, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford changed clothes so they weren’t wet. Grauntie Mabel poured a bag of corn weevils into the edge of the maze and ran off.

 

          Their last stop was an RV park to sleep for the night. Grauntie Mabel sat by the truck, a ball of yarn and two knitting needles in her hands. She hummed a quiet song as she created a new sweater. Stanley, Fiddleford, Nicolas, and Hank sat around a campfire. All of them had sticks that had been cleaned and sharpened. The sharpened ends skewered hot dogs and marshmallows. One stick, its end gooey and white, had been left behind by Stanford before he went to sleep.

          Stanley chewed off a golden-brown marshmallow from the end of his stick. “Do you guys know what time it is?”

           “Uh… bed?” Fiddleford guessed.

           “Spooky stories?” Nicolas prompted.

           “Another bag of marshmallows?” Hank guessed.

          Stanley shook his head. “Nope! It’s time for ‘Truth or Dare or Don’t’!”

          Fiddleford hesitated as he’d just put a marshmallow on his stick. “Uh, ‘Truth or Dare or Don’t’? I’ve never played that before.”

          Nicolas cackled. “Yes! I vote Hank to go first!”

          Hank elbowed him. “I vote Nick to go first.”

          Stanley tipped his head toward Fiddleford. “He’s never played before! Let’s let him go first!”

           “That doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t someone else go first?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “Okay. You first, Nick!” Stanley declared. “Truth or Dare or Don’t?”

           “Dare!” Nicolas said almost before Stanley had finished speaking.

          Stanley looked at Hank and Fiddleford. “Hmm… any of you have any good dares?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. Hank shrugged. “I always dare him to do stuff. Your turn!”

           “Okay, okay.” Stanley put on a devilish smile. He lowered his voice. “I dare you to hide Grauntie Mabel’s yarn under the RV!”

          Nicolas looked up at Grauntie Mabel, who’d almost finished her pink confetti sweater, and then back at Stanley. “You’re on!” With that, he stood up and vanished into the RV park. The boys looked at the fire and roasted marshmallows so that they didn’t look suspicious. They’d still steal glances at the RV. Nicolas slithered under it like a snake. He picked up the basket with yarn in it and scooted back as quietly as he could.

          Grauntie Mabel lifted her eyes so that she looked at Stanley. “Stanley!”

           “Yes, Grauntie Mabel?” Stanley called back, not a hint of laughter or fear or anything but curiosity in his tone of voice.

           “Could you help me get your friend here out from under the RV? I think he got stuck pulling my yarn under there.” She chuckled at the shocked look on Stanley’s face. When he went to the RV to find Nicolas, he was indeed stuck, but not under the RV. He was attempting to get his fingers off the box. “I glued it! HA!” Grauntie Mabel laughed.

          Once Stanley was able to pry Nicolas’ fingers off the box and slid the box back into place, they walked back to their campfire. “Okay,” Stanley announced. “You’re turn, Hank!”

          Hank thought for a moment. “Hmm… truth.”

          Stanley looked at Nick and Fiddleford. Nick smiled and piped up, “What’s in that box you keep under your bed?”

          Hank chuckled. “Scrapbook pictures of us.” Nick pouted, which just caused Hank to laugh even more.

          Stanley turned to Fiddleford. “You’re turn, Fidds!”

           “Um… don’t…?” Fiddleford guessed.

          Stanley stuck his tongue. “Ah, come on! Get in the spirit of things!”

           “Okay, okay! Um… truth.”

          Stanley looked about. “Hmm… anyone got any good ideas or is it up to me?”

           “Up to you,” Nick answered.

           “You know him better than us,” Hank agreed.

           “Okay, okay. So… do you _liiiiiike_ anyone?” Stanley asked, his devilish grin throwing weird shadows on his face in the firelight.

           “Oh-ho~! Someone’s blushing!” Nicolas laughed.

          Fiddleford, indeed turning a soft shade of pink put a hand to his neck. “Ah- aha… um… sure?”

           “Tell us!” Stanley demanded in an instant.

           “Pff- It’s not my turn anymore. It’s yours,” Fiddleford countered.

           “Spoil sport!” Stanley accused and then chuckled. “Okay, fine. Dare!”

 

          The next morning, they were on the road again. Everyone had taken their respective seating- Fiddleford in the passenger seat, Stanley and Stanford in a booth, and Hank and Nicolas across the table. Mabel announced, “Okay, everyone! Everything’s been a walk in the park until now! Behold: Mystery Mountain! Five times the size of the Mystery Shack _and_ they have real attractions! I was never a fan of the people that worked here. I really try and get along with everyone, but spiders just aren’t my thing.”

          Hank looked over a pamphlet. “Oh yeah! This place has a sky tram and legends about spider-people.” He turned the pamphlet around to show the pictures of people with a dozen eyes and spider abdomens and legs replacing their human legs like some sort of arachnotaur.

           “Even their made-up legends are better than ours!” Mabel agreed. “But today… the mountain falls.”

          Stanley looked at Hank and Nicolas, and then turned around. “Grauntie Mabel! I think I’m getting carsick. Can I sit in the passenger seat?”

           “Oh, sure thing, Lee. Be quick about it; I don’t want you two walking about with the RV running,” Grauntie Mabel called back.

           “Cool! Can I get out, bro?” Stanley asked.

          Stanford immediately got out of the seat to allow Stanley to pass. He didn’t sit back down. He knew Fiddleford didn’t like the aisle seat and that was fine. He could- Stanford watched as Nicolas slipped under the table and then popped back out the other side. He lay down so that he stretched across the whole seat.

          Stanley bounded up to Fiddleford. “Switch time!” Fiddleford unbuckled and got up so that Stanley could take his place. When he got into the middle, he found that the seating at the table was “full” and the only other place to sit was at the couch in the back.

          Stanford shrugged and sat down in the worn backseat. Fiddleford sat down next to him. He looked out the back window. “I think there are different trees here.”

           “No more pines?” Stanford prompted and turned around to look at the window. Indeed, the amount of pine trees had been diluted. “No, I see a few.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Pine trees are really hardy. The seeds don’t travel far, but when they do, they can stick around forever.”

           “Yeah. I heard of a pine tree that lasted almost five thousand years!” Stanford agreed.

          Fiddleford sat down again. “And how they stay green the whole year and not just in the summer.”

          Stanford sat back down, too. “Thankfully, their sap isn’t that sticky- unlike that time we had to track down that pterodactyl and we found all that sap.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “I wonder if the dinosaurs are still stuck.”

           “Hopefully they are,” Stanford chuckled.

           “Well, it was really cool watching your great aunt beat up a pterodactyl.”

           “Or when you helped us get away from that baby pterodactyl.”

          Stanford and Stanley talked on and on until the RV slowed to a stop in front of a wooden cabin of sorts. Outside, a giant blue ox stood next to a lumberjack who had a foot on the ticket stand. “MYSTERY MOUNTAIN” created a sign high above them. After a large gap, a sign reading “MUMMY MUSEUM” could be read.

          Grauntie Mabel turned off the RV and met them at the door. “Alright road dogs, five bucks to anyone who tips the big blue ox! Go! Go! Go!” She ushered the boys along as most ran to the big blue ox. Stanford stayed beside his great aunt. “What’s up, kiddo?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “Not in the mood for fake ox tipping?”

          Stanford watch the kids go before shaking his head. “Um… not really. I was just going to go out and look for these spider people!”

           “Kid, I’ll let you in on a secret,” Grauntie Mabel leaned down so that she was about his height. “I’ll believe the stuff my bro dug up, but not these show-offs. Every one of my exhibits is fake.”

           “You said they had real attractions, though,” Stanford pointed out.

           “I was talking about the mummies,” Grauntie Mabel replied with a shrug. “You know what? You should go check out the mummies! That’s really something I think you’d like.”

          Stanford shuffled his feet and then walked down another path to the museum. Fiddleford looked back at him and then ran after Stanford. “Hey, Ford!”

          Stanford jumped. “Oh! Hey, Fidds! I thought you guys were trying to tip over the ox.”

           “I wasn’t much help,” Fiddleford confessed. “Besides, these mummies sound interestin’.”

 

          Stanley, Hank, and Nicolas hid in the bushes just outside of “Mummy Town U.S.A.” and watched as the chattering nerds entered the small museum. Stanley chuckled. “Oh, man! I knew we had to get out of our dumb town to get someone for Ford!”

          Hank looked down at him. “Did you think it was going to be Fiddleford?”

          Stanley shrugged. “With Ford, I thought he didn’t even like romance.”

           “This is so cool!” Nick breathed. “I’ve never followed anyone on a date before!”

          Hank looked at the museum. “I don’t think they’d call it a date.”

           “You wouldn’t say that if they were holding hands,” Nicolas pointed out.

           “Are they?”

           “…no.”

          Stanley narrowed his eyes. “Ugh. I can’t see inside. They’re going to be in there a while, huh?”

          Nicholas shrugged. “Probably. I mean, I would. Mummies sound cool!”

          Stanley strolled out and leaned against a pole. “Yeah, your right.” His gaze fell to the ticket stand. A girl, perhaps Stanley’s age, maybe a year over, stood at the ticket stand. She propped up her head on the table and stuck her tongue out. Her poofy blonde hair fell over her small shoulders and onto the wood. A pair of oval sunglasses brushed back her hair a bit to reveal dream-catcher earrings. “You tell me if anything changes. I think I’m gunna see if I can find my own date.”

          Hank and Nick watched as Stanley strolled out into the open. Hank stood up completely. “He’s forward. Well, if Ford is anything like him…”

           “Yep!” Nick agreed and then looked at the blue ox. “You still want to tip it?”

          Stanley stopped by the ticket stand. The girl looked down and perked up. “Finally!” she breathed and then grinned.

          He patted his pockets as if trying to find the money to pay for a ticket. “Oh no, I seem to have lost my number!” He leaned on the box and smiled at her. “Can I borrow yours?”

          The ticket stand girl giggled, “You are a riot! What brings you here? We don’t normally get boys this cute around these parts.” She drew out her vowels and talked a bit slower than Stanley.

           “Well…” Stanley glanced at her nametag. “Darlene, between you an’ me, what I’m doin’ here is a little secret.”

          Darlene perked up. “Oh, you seem like a boy with secrets.” She chuckled with Stanley. “You know, I’m going on a break. You wanna take the sky ram up to Widow’s Peak?”

           “Oh, sure!” Stanley walked around to her side and offered his arm.

           “Oh, fancy!” She cooed and took his arm.

 

          After a bit of walking around, Stanford and Fiddleford sat down on a bench near the end of the museum flanked by a trashcan and water fountain. A “NEW MUMMIES DAILY” banner hung over the seat. Stanford looked about the place. Fiddleford glanced at Stanford. “This place is really neat.”

           “Yeah. I’m confused by the phrase ‘new mummies daily’, though,” Stanford pointed out and looked at Fiddleford. Fiddleford pretended as if he’d been staring at a mummy case close to them before turning to Stanford. “I mean, how does that even work?”

          Fiddleford shrugged. “This mountain is full of mysteries! Ah-Ah mean, uh, maybe they just get imported regularly?”

          Stanford perked up and looked about. “Uh, what’s wrong?” He turned back to Fiddleford.

           “What’s wrong?” Fiddleford echoed. “N-nothing’s wrong.”

          Stanford’s eyebrows contracted. “You don’t stutter unless something’s wrong, Fidds.”

          Fiddleford looked up at him and then shrugged. “Oh, well, uh… it’s…” he chuckled in an uneven, pitched way. _Oh no. Is he…? What? Nah, it’s the mummies. He’s spooked by the mummies. That would make sense. He does get nervous easily._

           “The mummies?” Stanford offered.

          Fiddleford started to nod, but caught himself. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Stanford had the feeling he recognized that look, but not on Fiddleford. “Well, okay. Okay.” Fiddleford stated and looked up at Stanford. “Ah’m goin’ to be forward.” Stanford could practically see Fiddleford’s resolve cracking upon meeting Stanford’s gaze. His accent got a bit thicker as he continued, “Ah-Ah wasn’t thinkin’ about seein’ the mummies here. Ah wanted ta come here with you. Y-yer my friend- the best Ah’ve e-ever had. Ah’ve j-” He cleared his throat and started fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. “You’re the smartest fella Ah know and one of the bravest. This was the best summer Ah’ve ever had. Ah just… Ah’d like ta- ta be more than a friend.” Fiddleford winced and gulped.

          Stanford couldn’t speak at first. He put a hand on the back of his neck. _Oh. So… so he really… what are you doing, Stanford? Weren’t YOU going to talk to HIM? Stop choking! Say something!_ “Thank you? Er- right.” _What do I say? Stanley’s the romantic, not me._ “I, um… um…” _Don’t wimp out now! Don’t wimp out now! Don’t wi- don’t!_ “I’ve got to go.” _You son of a gun._ Stanford ran, red as a tomato and now clutching his notepad in his hands.

          Fiddleford watched him go. Once Stanford was out of sight, Fiddleford hit himself in the forehead. “Ya messed up big time, Fiddleford! Ya scared him off!”

 

          Darlene and Stanley walked through the Spider Forest. Darlene looked about with round, blackish brown eyes. “Oh, are you sure you wanna go these deep into the forest? It’s scaaary.”

          Stanley smirked and waved his hand. “Heh, don’t worry, toots.” They sat down on a bench just in front of a giant spider statue. He put his arms around her. “That spider people stuff is just an urban legend.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe people fall for it.”

           “You’re so brave,” Darlene went on.

          Stanley shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a real catch.”

          Darlene grinned. Her eyes turned black. “Yes. The catch of the day.”

          Stanley tipped his head. “Uh… somethin’ up?” I- oh no. Ah!” Stanley jumped up.

 

          Stanford, panting from the sudden exertion, sat down on the trail near the sky tram. Hiding in the shadow of a bench, he hurriedly scribbled down a spider-person from memory. He’d gotten the rough outline before his walkie-talkie hissed. Stanford picked it up immediately. “Grauntie Mabel?”

           “Heeeey, Ford!” Stanley greeted.

           “Uh… Stanley? What’s wrong?”

          Stanley chuckled. “Okay, so, you’re not going to believe this. Those fake spider people everyone’s talking about? Well, I think I found them!”

           “Really?” Stanford grinned.

           “Yep! But, uh… I think I found out where the mummies come from, too.”

          Stanford’s face fell. “You didn’t.”

           “Eh-heh. Yeah. Turns out that ticket booth girl was a spider person! I found a bunch of other mummies and I think I might become one.”

          Stanford jumped to his feet and put away his notebook and pen. “Whoa, what?! That girl’s a spider person? How’s that possible?”

           “Uh, heh. So, I dunno. One minute we’re talkin’ about the creepy forest, and the next she’s growing extra legs and wrapping me up in webbing!”

           “You couldn’t tell she was a spider?”

           “I was blinded by flattery! And probably this acid she spit in my face. I’m in Widow’s Peak at the top of the mountain,” Stanley answered.

           “Alright, stay put. I’ll be right there,” Stanford promised.

          Inside of Widow’s Peak, Stanley, wrapped up a web cocoon, looked down at his web-covered body. “…yeah. You got it.” The light hissing of the other end of the walkie talkie died. Stanley shifted his position so that the walkie talkie was in a more comfortable position between the side of his head and shoulder.

          A shot of web snatched the walkie talkie and tore it away. The machine shattered on the ground. “Ah, aaa-aah!” Darlene, still with the top half of a young girl and the bottom half of a hairy black tarantula, chuckled and crept up to him from farther in the den. “Trying to escape?”

          Stanley smirked. “Nope. I’m escaping. There’s no trying in there.”

           “My, my! You’re confident!”

           “Yep. That’s me. I’m confident about just about everything.” Stanley puffed out his chest and then wheezed as the web stayed tight around him. “So, when did you plan on eating me or whatever?”

           “Soon,” Darlene answered and ticked her spider feet on the stone and web floor.

           “You’re plannin’ on eating me, right?” Stanley prompted. “If not, I will be sorely disappointed.”

           “Why?” Darlene raised an eyebrow.

           “’Cause I’m irresistible!” Stanley grinned and snickered at his own joke. Darlene put a hand over her mouth to keep from smiling. Stanley, encouraged, went on, “Well, I should have expected this. Spider people, legends- I probably should have just stayed with my _mummy_ instead! I could have run away, but my _widow_ of opportunity to escape was pretty small!” Darlene snorted and started snickering.

 

          Stanford turned off the walkie-talkie and darted into the entrance are with the blue ox. He bounced from foot to foot. “Mabel, Mabel, where are you?” He ran off to look at the ox. Grauntie Mabel sat next to Fiddleford, who looked at his feet. Hank and Nick sat down nearby. Stanford gasped and raced to their side. “Oh gosh. GRAUNTIE MABEL! FIDDS!” Stanford raced up to them, causing them to jump. Fiddleford straightened up and looked at him with round eyes. Stanford looked at his great aunt. Poor Fidds; that look of hurt was just way too much. He attempted to speak, but all that came out was an incoherent wheeze. So, instead, he lowered his head, raised his hands, and used sign language instead. _“Stanley’s in trouble! She’s going to be eaten by a spider-person!”_

           “What are you saying?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “Stanley’s in trouble. He’s going to be eaten by a spider-person,” Fiddleford translated.

          Grauntie Mabel stared at him in confusion, and perhaps even annoyance. “A spider-person? Ford! You can’t just run off like that an–”

          _“I’m being serious,”_ Stanford denied, still trying to regain his breath. Fiddleford spoke as Stanford continued, _“Look, I’m sorry. You can attack me later, okay? But Stanley needs us! I’ll explain on the way.”_ Then, only hoping they’d follow him, Stanford raced back to the trail. Grauntie Mabel, Fiddleford, Hank, and Nicolas followed close behind. Nearby, Ol’ Reliable went off.

          Stanford began to slow down as they passed up the sky tram. Why did he have to run around so much? Grauntie Mabel grabbed him by the shirt collar and pushed him forward. “Come on! We can make it!”

          As they approached a small cave decorated by spider webs, they could Stanley’s voice drift in. “Oh, oh! I got another! So, Ford and I were walkin’ along the beach, right? He was teasin’ me about being afraid of the Ferris Wheel I snuck us on. Then, a little bity snake slithered onto the sidewalk. He screamed like a little girl!”

          A second voice, that of a girl, laughed, “Oh my gawsh, really? A little snake?”

           “Yeah, man!”

          Stanford glared at the tunnel. “Oh, Stanley, if you were pranking me I will kill you!”

          They ran around the corner and stopped. Stanley was indeed cocooned in a spider web. Darlene sat beneath him, listening to his stories and jokes as if they were the best thing in the world. “What happened then?”

           “He fell over and broke his glasses and we both got grounded for forever,” Stanley answered. “You know, I don’t hear you tellin’ many stories!”

           “I don’t have good stories,” Darlene admitted. “But I did find some good ones on the web!” This caused both of them to laugh. Stanford groaned.

          Stanley and Darlene turned their attention to them. Stanley grinned. “Hey! I told ya I found a spider-person!”

           “You said she was going to eat you!” Stanford pointed out. “You give me a heart attack for this?”

           “I never said _that_ , really.”

           “You said she was going to turn you into a mummy.”

           “Details. Are we leavin’ already?” Stanley prompted. “Oh, by the way, this is Darlene.” He nodded to the spider-girl beneath him. “Darlene, this is my Grauntie Mabel, my brother Ford, his boyfriend Fiddleford, and our two friends Nick and Hank.”

          Fiddleford went red in the face and lost eye contact while Stanford glared at him.

          Darlene shifted her feet. “Oh. Oh, uh… I’m sorry. I forgot they were coming. Look, it, uh… you have to leave.”

          Grauntie Mabel gave her a soft smile. “I’m sorry, but we’re not leaving without Lee. What’s a girl like you doing trapping little flirts like him, anyway?”

          Darlene sighed. “It’s a tradition. And, uh… we eat humans. So… I kinda have to.” She looked back. “B-but! Uh, if you leave right now, you can still live. My mom’s out right now. If she catches you then she’ll tie you up, too, and…” She looked up at Stanley. She shifted her weight and sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.” Darlene hopped up, climbed over Stanley, hung on the ceiling by her feet, and undid the web that connected him to the ceiling. He fell flat on his face. “Whoops! Well, you can get him out, now.”

           “Any time!” Stanley agreed and moved so that he could breath. Grauntie Mabel and Hank pulled apart the web connecting him to the ground while Nick, Fiddleford, and Stanford took off the webbing that cocooned him. Stanley wiggled free and jumped up. “YEAH! I’m free! And without any consequence whatsoeveee ooooh head rush.” He set a hand on his head and swayed a bit.

           “You should be getting out of here,” Darlene pointed out. “My mother will be back any time now. Don’t take the sky tram. It’s _very_ slow.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “I’ll take your word for it, uh…?”

           “Darlene,” the girl answered, smiling and clasping her hands behind her back.

           “Darlene! Thank you.” She ushered the kids out of the cave. Stanley glanced back. Darlene rubbed her arm and let out a quiet sigh.

          Stanley turned to Stanford. “Hey! Ford. I need your notebook thingy.”

           “Why?”

           “I need it! Just lemme borrow it for a sec.” Stanley held out his hand. “I’m, uh, writing a note.”

          Stanford narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “For whom?”

           “Darlene, duh,” Stanley scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

           “Why? She literally imprisoned you and threatened to eat you!”

           “Yeah, but if you get past the whole ‘spider’ part, she’s real cool. Now come on! I need that notebook!” Stanley attempted to grab it out of Stanford’s jacket.

          Stanford side-stepped him and grabbed it. “Stanley! Fine, here you go.”

           “Thanks!” Stanley plucked the pen out from behind Stanford’s ear and scribbled down a note as they walked. He looked it over, nodded, and then tore the paper out. Stanford took back his supplies without hesitation. Stanley folded the piece of paper into an airplane and chucked it as hard as he could into the forest.

          Nick looked at him. “Why’d you do that? It’s lost now!”

           “No, it ain’t.” Stanley shrugged. “She goes out there all the time. She’ll find it.”

           “What’d it say, anyway?” Nick prompted.

           “My address and e-mail,” Stanley answered. “I forget to give it to her earlier. Or was it just my e-mail? Oh well.”

           “Wait. So, you gave a spider-person our address?” Stanford stared at him.

           “Pretty much, yeah. As an airplane! Creative, right?” Stanley puffed out his chest. He looked about. “Wow. Tough crowd. What happened? Gnomes steal the rest of the marshmallows? …they didn’t, did they?”

           “Shut up,” Stanford growled at him. Stanley looked at Fiddleford, whose arms were crossed and looked away. Stanley looked up at Grauntie Mabel.

           “I can’t say,” Grauntie Mabel admitted. “Not my place.”

           “Aw, Grauntie! You’re always nosey,” Stanley whined.

           “Not as nosey as you.”

          Stanley looked back at Nick. Nick opened his mouth and wrinkled his nose as Hank put a hand over his mouth. Stanley rolled his eyes.

          When they finally got back to the RV, Grauntie Mabel went first. Nick hopped on with Hank close behind. Stanley side-stepped and retied his shoe, allowing Stanford to go before him. He didn’t look up. Fiddleford waited awkwardly outside for Stanley to go first. Stanley cleared his throat and stood up. “Psst, Fidds.”

           “Huh?”

           “What happened to you and my bro?” Stanley prompted.

           “Ah-Ah- what? What do you-?” Fiddleford stuttered.

           “You think I’m dumb or somethin’? Of course you and Ford had a spat. That’s why everyone’s all moody. Now tell me what happened.” Stanley put his hands on his hips and stood directly in front of Fiddleford. Although he didn’t take a threatening stance nor show anything but exasperation, Fiddleford still took a step back.

          The southerner sighed. “Okay. Look. Stanford and Ah went into the mummy museum and Ah confessed and he ran away. That’s what happened.”

           “That?” Stanley raised an eyebrow. “And, what? You’re offended? Jeez.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s my brother for ya. Okay, look. I don’t want this whole moody thing to go on forever. So, come on.” Stanley turned and walked into the RV. Fiddleford reluctantly followed. Stanford finished putting something away on a shelf near the very back. “Yo, Ford!”

          Stanford looked down. “What now, Stanley?”

          Stanley tromped up to him. “I heard about what happened. So, I found something to make you feel better.” Stanley turned around, grabbed Fiddleford by the shoulders, and pushed him into Stanford. They two fell back into the very back seat with a huff. Stanley flashed a smile, shut the curtains, and tromped to the front seat. “We can leave now.”

           “Stanley!” Grauntie Mabel scolded as she started up the RV. “You shouldn’t shove like that. Unless you have a camera. Do you have a camera?” Stanley smiled and took out the device in question. “That’s my boy.”

          In the backseat, Fiddleford pushed himself off Stanford and rubbed his head. “Fff, ow. Is yer brother always so pushy?” The RV jerked as it picked up speed. He sat down.

          Stanford nodded his head and grimace. They’d bumped heads on the way down. “Yep. He was way worse last year, though. Tried getting me to invite really any girl that looked at me to the school dance.” He sat up completely. “Sorry he got you sucked into this.”

           “Nah, Ah did it myself,” Fiddleford sighed. “Ah’m sorry for being such a fool.” Stanford watched him speak. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten inta me. Ah know that you… if anythin’, yer father would be mad an’… I dunno.” He sighed. “Ah’m sorry, Stanford. Ah just… let’s jus’ forget about his.” Fiddleford’s uncomfortable ramble turned into a mumble.

          Stanford had a photographic memory, which served him well in his studies. He rarely ever zoned out for one reason or the other. For some odd reason, this instance was different. He remembered turning his head to meet Fiddleford’s pitiful gaze. The next moment, his lips pressed against Fiddleford’s. The boy tensed, shock causing him to freeze. Stanford, let go and sat back. _What? What just happened?_

          Fiddleford wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Stanford, after a few moments of hesitation, returned the tight hug.

 

          Hours later, Stanford and Fiddleford sat next to each other. In front of them was Stanford’s notebook, which was almost completely filled with notes and creatures they’d taken or found over the summer. Fiddleford’s fingers were intertwined with Stanford’s. As Fiddleford didn’t have as many fingers, and he was a bit smaller than him anyway, Stanford’s hand enveloped his.

          Grauntie Mabel called, “We’re in Gravity Falls!” The kids looked up. Everyone ran around to the front of the vehicle. They cheered as they passed up the “Welcome to GRAVITY FALLS!” sign.

          Stanford shrugged. “I still feel a little bad about wrecking those tourist traps.”

           “Aw, come on,” Grauntie Mabel waved her hand. “They’re harmless pranks! I sure no one is really upset over- _oh sweet lord!_ ” The RV stopped.

          In front of them was the Mystery Shack. Graffiti spray-painted over the entire thing. “MYSTERY” had been sprayed over with the spray-painted words: “MABEL IS A” The “S” in “SHACK” had fallen off again. Multiple signs were upside down as well as spray-painted words. Corn still in their shucks piled up in the doorway and windows. A ball of yarn crossed over the roof.

          A man wearing a corn costume swung a bat to destroy one of the headlights on the RV. “That’s what you get!” he barked. “ _That’s what you get!_ ” The owners of various tourist traps got in their cars and sped away.

          Grauntie Mabel hopped onto the grass. “Oh no. Oooooooh no. Dipper’s going to kill me. Dip- where’s Dipper?” Grauntie Mabel rushed around the other side of the house, the kids at heel. When they got inside, they found some yarn and spray paint inside.

          The worst part, though, was how Grunkle Dipper, dressed up in his silver turtleneck and navy-blue coat, was duct-taped to the ceiling. He glowered at Grauntie Mabel with the most intense hate Stanford had ever seen. “Get. Me. Down. _Now._ ”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Fiddle? Get a few knives from the kitchen. Stans? Go into the RV and grab some of my anti-adhesive.” The three kids scattered. Mabel took out a camera. “And smile for the scrapbook picture, Dipper!”

           “MABEL, I SWEAR TO–!” _Click!_

           “Got it!”

 

A **H** PQQXNN WDCTVWGG CJ S JQYSKFOC **L** LCR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points for whoever knew THIS was coming! I'm trash, I'm sorry.  
> Anyway, I thought this was just a real cute thing I couldn't pass up. On the web, I found people shipped Stanley with Darlene so I thought _succotaur_ "You know what? Why not?" and now it's a thing. Also, I was always confused. Stanford was jumpy and prickly and highly defensive of the house. Where _vigenère_ was HE when the house got wrecked? He has cameras everywhere, doesn't he? This episode was wonky in most all terms. I tried to straighten it out a bit. Also, Also: SCRAPBOOKORTUNITY!  
>  Also, also, also: HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS, THE END IS NEAR!


	13. Stanley and Stanford versus the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer is winding to a close. Stanley and Stanford's birthday is coming up and so the whole family is helping in preparation for the end of summer.

          Birdsong and leaves flew on the wind that swirled through the morning valley. In the increasingly wearing Mystery Shack, not too many occupants were still asleep. In fact, as the sun started to rise, it became evident that there was only one person in the house asleep.

          Stanley’s feet hooked into the back of Stanford’s headboard. His hands gripped the top, and he leaned forward so that he was nearly face-to-face with Stanford. Gompers looked up and spasmed, as if shocked. He let out a little bleat and relaxed again.

          Stanford yawned. “Gompers?” He opened his eyes and then yelled in fright as Stanford was three inches away from his face. “STANLEY!”

          Stanley whipped his head back to avoid being punched and laughed. “Mornin’, Sixer!”

          Stanford sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re getting to old for this?”

           “Actually, about that.” Stanley hopped onto Stanford’s bed and launched himself off so that he landed squarely on his feet on firm land. “I _was_ gunna say that! Sorta! We are exactly _one_ week away from our thirteenth birthday!” He threw up his hands in a showy manner. Some glitter from the cookies he’d stolen last night fluttered off his fingers.

          Stanford sat up so fast his blanket fell off his lap and Gompers bounded off the bed. “Whoa! Already?” He grinned and jumped up. “We’re going to be _actual_ teenagers!”

          Stanley laughed. “Finally! I can start readin’ teen magazines without getting in trouble!”

           “And we can watch PG13 movies,” Stanford agreed.

           “And one more year ’til high school, Ford!” Stanley burst out. “High school! Where boys become men and they teach us stuff about…” He leaned toward Stanford. “You know what.”

           “Trigonometry?”

           “Oh, yeah, man!”

          The door opened, showing none other than Grauntie Mabel and Waddles. Waddles oinked. Gompers bleated and bounced around him. “That’s not the only good news!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “In one week, Dipper will finally let me take him across the state on my motorcycle! I wore him down _hard._ ”

           “The future is coming for us all,” Stanley claimed.

           “The future!” Stanford exclaimed.

           “The future!” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

          Gompers bleated.

 

          Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Stanford gathered in the living room. A model of the Mystery Shack sat on the table along with a calendar holder pointing to the end date. Mabel, dressed up in a pale pink cake and confetti sweater, a sombrero, and green shades glasses, stamped her hands on the table. “Alright, party people! In one week, you two are becoming teenagers and this summer vacation comes to an end. You know what this means. We need to throw the greatest party of all time!” She threw up her hands. Stray glitter shimmered through the air around her fingers. “Ideas! You!”

           “Piñatas!” Stanley exclaimed. “With smaller piñatas inside!”

           “Genius! You!”

           “Invitations!” Stanford burst out.

           “Yes! Everyone’s invited!” Grauntie Mabel cackled. “Everyone shall know the great Stan Twins are no longer children! Ra-haha!”

          Stanley joined in on her evil laugh. “Yeah! Technically teens here we come! No one will not take us seriously anymore!”

           “Mabel!” Grunkle Dipper’s voice came from the other room. “I hope you aren’t planning another party at the house!”

           “I am!” Grauntie Mabel called back. “We need some roof to raise!”

           “This roof isn’t stable enough! Why don’t you throw one of your block parties?”

          Grauntie Mabel frowned. “Dipper you’re such a spoil sport!” She stuck out her tongue and turned to them. “Ah, well. We can find somewhere else. And if we don’t, we’ll throw it here, anyway. Hmm… suggestions?”

          Stanley shrugged. “We could get Ford to distract Grunkle Dipper while we decorate the place.”

           “Ooooooor,” Stanford started. “We could go to the school gym.”

           “Yeah! The high school gym!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “That place is closed all summer!”

          The house shook as something blew up.

           “Ford!” Grunkle Dipper called. “My face is on fire!”

          Stanford glanced back at them. “I’ll be right back.” He ran past them and into Grunkle Dipper’s room. “Great Uncle Dipper! Are you okay?”

           “Good as can be!” Grunkle Dipper wiped off his face and turned around. “I just said that to make you get here more quickly.”

          Stanford stared at a smoking spot on Dipper’s cheek. “But your face _is_ on fire.”

          Grunkle dipper shrugged and patted his face. “Yes, it’s much faster than shaving. Now!” Grunkle Dipper got down on one knee so that he looked Stanford in the eyes. “Listen, Ford, I have a very important mission. You’re the only one who can help me.” He gently pulled out the rift. The snow globe part sported a crack in it. “Remember the rift in dimensional space-time I showed you?” He pointed to the crack. Was it just Stanford, or did the crack just get worse? “It’s cracking. This is what Bill had been waiting for. If this breaks, reality itself as we know it will completely unravel.” He got up and walked to a blackboard on the other side of the room. “This is a hypothetical and catastrophic event I call: Weirdmageddon.”

          Stanford’s eyes grew round. The blackboard was covered in writing and pictures, the largest of them being of the shattered rift, a world broken in two, distressed people and objects falling into what looked like an earthquake, a huge ‘X’ near the top, and Bill in the center.

           “Bill’s out there,” Grunkle Dipper warned. “He would use _any_ trick–from deception to outright possession–to make this possible. But for the sake of humanity, we cannot let it.”

          Stanford raised his gaze up to his great uncle. “What do we do?”

           “We patch the rift.” Grunkle Dipper set the rift in a highly secure, cushioned box and locked it. “I’ll explain on the way.”

           “Wait, right now?” Stanford gasped. _He wasn’t remotely ready!_

          Stanley called from the doorway, “Don’t worry, bro! I’ve got you covered.” Stanford turned around. Stanley held two backpacks- one beige and one red.

           “Thanks!” Stanford gladly accepted the beige backpack. A walkie talkie pocked out of it. “So, you’re fine with Mabel, right?”

           “Totally. It’s not like you’ll be gone forever.” Stanley stuck his tongue out and then held up a walkie talkie. “Besides, I packed these! You know, in case you need your brother’s wise words on your journey.”

          Stanford rolled his eyes and threw on the backpack.

          Grunkle Dipper cleared his throat. “Come on, we’re under a lot of pressure and not a lot of time.”

           “Right, right.” Stanford nodded. Their great uncle strode out of the room at a quick pace. “Phew! Okay, so, first real big mission, Ford! You can totally do this!”

          Grunkle Dipper’s voice came from the living room he was unfortunate enough to pass through. “MABEL! Don’t touch me! I have this really fragile- okay! I’ve got to go. Good luck with the party outside of our house!”

           “Bye, Stanley!” Stanford waved and ran out of the room, eyes bright and hands clutching his backpack.

 

          Stanley looked around the cabin of the truck he was in. It smelled oddly of jerky. “Oh! This truck is so cool!”

           “Tough Girl” Wendy didn’t look away from the road. “Yep! This truck is nothing like my eight-wheeler, though.”

          Stanley chuckled. “I know! I saw it! And, uh, thanks for driving me, by the way.”

           “Anything for one of Mabel’s kids,” “Tough Girl” Wendy agreed. “Her craziness is what makes life worth living.”

          Stanley’s gaze snapped to the large, square, brick high school surrounded by heavy woods. A sign outside red “SAWDUST INHALATION DRILL – 8:00” After skipping a line, “GO FIGHTING BEAVERS” was plainly stated. Lee and Nate, laughing, flicked various letters off the board.

           “Tough Girl” Wendy honked. The boys yelped and vanished- presumably behind the sign. The lumberjack stopped her truck near the gym. “Tell Dan that once he’s done, I’ll be here.”

           “Okay, Mrs. Corduroy!” Stanley hopped out of her truck, waved, and ran into the building. The gym was anything but empty. Students, most in line though some milled about or congregated near papers or posters, filled the gym. Some looked to be falling asleep, others typed at their phones, and more just stared around with dead eyes. “WELCOME BACK STUDENTS” was typed on a banner underneath the school logo above the gym exit doors. Stanley, his backpack over his shoulders and a thick cluster of papers in his arms, slipped in through the open doors. “Whoa. This place is packed.”

          Dan turned and grinned. “Hey, Lee! What’s up?”

           “Hey, Dan!” Stanley ran up to him. “So, what are you doing here, again?”

          Dan’s smile left and he rolled his eyes. “Ugh. High school registration.”

          Stanley perked up. “Oh! You know, I’m only a year away from high school myself. How’d you describe your high school experience?”

           “Terrible!” Dan burst out. “High school is the _worst._ Classes get super hard, your body just flat out turns against you, and, worst of all? Everyone hates you!”

          Stanley took a second to look around the room with Dan’s words in mind. Two girls, one dressed in a series of stormy grays and blacks with an angry cat shirt and the other in a short-skirt blue outfit, glowered and snarled at each other. The ring of kids around them seemed no less aggressive, though none of them openly balled their fists or pointed or got face-to-face with the one they loathed.

          Toby, shuttering, curled up into a ball beside a padded wall. “I can’t do it!” he wheezed. “Can’t do another year!”

          Janice glowered at a wall of class subjects. She punched Statistics. “My hormones are like a sweaty cage!”

          Stanley looked down at his papers. “Wow. That’s, weird.” _Was it really worse than middle school? He wouldn’t have to try and prove himself again, would he? Not to mention Stanford._ “TV said high school was like a musical or somethin’.”

           “TV lied, man!” Dan took his shoulder, causing Stanley to look up at him. “If you can avoid growing up, _do it._ ” He let go and sighed. “Ugh. What I wouldn’t give to be twelve again.” A thought popped into his head. “Say, what are you doing here, again?”

          Stanley hunched his shoulders with a weird chuckle. “Just lookin’ for a place to have my thirteenth birthday party.”

           “Daniel Borduroy? I-I mean, Corduroy?” At the front of the line, a man behind the desk held up a paper and adjusted his glasses. The rest of the students in line burst into muffled snickering and laughing. Someone threw a balled up paper and hit Dan in the head.

          Dan, a reddish tinge coming to his cheeks and his hands balled into fists, growled, “See what I mean?” He turned on his heel and stalked down the line of still laughing students.

          Stanley watched him go with wide eyes. Dan was the coolest, toughest dude he knew and people were _laughing at him?_ Oh, man. If people were bold enough to act that way toward Dan, then Stanley didn’t stand a chance, did he?

 

          Stanley sat down outside of the school and set his fliers and backpack down. Stanley picked up his walkie talkie. “Steller Stanley to Forty Ford. We can have our party at the gym, but… we’ve gotta talk about high school.” He looked back at the gym. “Startin’ to think it might not be the great break we were expectin’. Over.”

          Stanford’s voice came through along with hissing radio static. “I’m going through a bad patch, Stanley. We’ll talk when I get back.” The hissing stopped.

          Stanley pressed down on the button. “Ford? Come in, come in?”

           “Tough Girl” Wendy’s shadow fell over him. “Hey, kid.” Her voice was oddly soft. “How about we deliver some invitations to your friends, huh?”

          Stanley smiled. “Yeah! Yeah, definitely!” He grabbed his things and ran back to the truck with Wendy. He buckled his seatbelt and jumped when “Tough Girl” Wendy honked again.

           “Hey!” Wendy called. “I see you here again, I’m getting out of this truck!” Lee and Nate scattered- for good, this time. Their feet no longer hid behind the sign that now red “NO ESCAPE”. Stanley’s gaze followed the sign with wide eyes.

 

          Grunkle Dipper and Stanford walked along a grassy hill overlooking the Floating Cliffs. Stanford’s walkie talkie hissed. Stanford smacked the side of it. “Stanley? Stanley? Erg.”

          Grunkle Dipper stopped. “Ford, listen.” Stanford stopped and looked up at him. “To seal this rift for good, it’s going to take an adhesive stronger than anything on Earth.” He looked back at the boy. “Something extraterrestrial in origin.”

          Stanford’s heart leapt. “What do you mean?”

          Grunkle Dipper knelt beside him and pointed to the cliffs. “Look at the odd shape made by those cliffs. Does it remind you of anything?”

          Stanford looked over the cliffs. Two long, thin triangles had been carved out of both cliffs. The railroad above was flat at the top, but the supports curved up to made a sort of dome. What had that sort of shape…?

          Grunkle Dipper took out his keychain and held it in front of him. A little plastic, light-up UFO jingled in front of him. Stanford’s eyes went round. “Oh my…”

          Grunkle Dipper stood up. “According to my research, this entire valley of Gravity Falls was formed when an extraterrestrial object crash-landed here millions of years ago. Now, did this craft cause the weirdness in Gravity Falls, or did Gravity Falls attract the craft? The answer is simply unknown.”

           “That’s crazy!” Stanford exclaimed, a wild grin coming to him. “Where’d it go?”

          Grunkle Dipper glanced back at him and approached the rather large rock nestled in the grass before him. “Ford, sometimes the biggest and strangest things are hiding right under our noses.” He planted his hands on the rock and pushed it out of the way. “Or, in this case: under our feet!”

          Below them, right where the rock had been, was a metal square imbued with carvings.

          Grunkle Dipper turned around and pulled a bulbous gun out of his jacket. “Now, stand back. This magnet gun is very powerful. It could tear the fillings out of a man from thirty meters away.” Stanford immediately took a few steps back. Grunkle Dipper cocked the gun and pointed it down. A line of squares along the side lit up in blue. The two prongs on the end sparked. The metal square on the ground bent up and then flipped outward like a door as Grunkle Dipper turned it off at the right time.

          Stanford gasped and looked down into the narrow, square hole. He couldn’t see past a few yards as it quickly turned black. “Whoa.”

          Grunkle Dipper smiled. “We raided this place for parts for years. Where do you think I got the materials for the portal?”

           “You… I…” Stanford wheezed. What was he supposed to say? This was a real life, physical, actual, right-in-front-of-him space ship!

          Grunkle Dipper took out another gun and tossed it. Stanford scrambled to catch it. “Heh. Come along. Stay close to me and keep that gun with you.” Grunkle Dipper climbed down into the hole. “We’ve been down here _countless_ times. All the aliens have been dead for millions of years. Just keep your footing, and you’ll be fine.”

          Stanford climbed in after him.

           “Whoa,” Stanford breathed as they walked. “I can’t believe it. A UFO! Right below our feet! And we’re standing in it!”

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Ah, I wish I could be where you are right now. Back when confirmed extraterrestrials had a punch to it! Now it’s more like… eh.” He shrugged.

          The two left the small hole and emerged in a spacious dome covered in runes, filled with objects, and teaming with plant life and small animals.

          They landed on the metal ground in a small poof of dust and dirt.

          Grunkle Dipper gestured to the place around them. “Mabel, Candy, and I used to come down here all the time for parts and to study the language. Well, Chiu and I studied the language, Mabel took pictures of everything and picked up anything shiny she found.” Grunkle Dipper chuckled at the small memory.

          Stanford laughed, “This is amazing!” He spotted a wall covered in alien symbols and took a selfie. He giggled and ran off to join his great uncle as he fell behind a bit.

          Grunkle Dipper took out Journal Two, flipped through a few pages, and then showed off a page covered in pictures and words. “ALIEN ADHESIVE” was written on the top of the left page. “The substance we need to seal the rift is an alien adhesive- one strong enough to keep the hull of a spacecraft together.” He stopped by the edge of a very large, very deep hole, shut the journal, and offered it to Stanford, who took it immediately. “Just one dollop should be enough to seal a crack in space-time. Oh, and if it touches you, it will seal up all the orifices in your face.” He took out his magnet gun and cocked it. “So, try not to touch it.” He grinned and turned to a pillar breaking the center of the hole. “Now, take out your magnet gun, and follow me!” He pointed his gun at the pillar and took a running leap. The gun left a trail of sparks as he spiraled into the dark. A few seconds after he was completely out of sight, Dipper turned on a light.

           “Grunkle Dipper!” Stanford gasped and looked over the edge. He held onto his own magnet gun with an iron grip.

           “Your turn!” Grunkle Dipper called back. “Don’t worry, you could be carrying the whole family and that gun wouldn’t let go of whatever metal object you hold onto. It won’t drop you as long as you keep it turned on.”

           “Uh… right, right. Turn on the gun.” Stanford put away the journal and fiddled with his gun. “Oh, turn on, already! Come on, come on- a-hah!” The gun’s lights lit up with a quiet _whirr._ “Magnet. I’m coming!” Stanford leaped off the precipice. He didn’t pull his gun down in time so, instead of going forward and using the pillar to go down, he was sucked up and hit the ceiling. “Ahh! Uh, help?”

 

          Stanley looked out the window and watched the town go by. They came to a stop outside Fiddleford’s house. “Thanks for the ride!” Stanley opened the door and ran around to the front of the house.

           “Tough Girl” Wendy called, “Good luck, boy!” before driving off.

          He wasted no time in knocking. Something fell with a _crash_ inside, followed by a hasty “I’ll get that in a second!” from Stanley’s best friend.

          Fiddleford opened the door and, upon realizing it was Stanley, smiled. “Hey, Lee! I was just finishing up fixing the toaster. Do you want any?”

          Stanley reached into his backpack. “You think fixing a toaster is fun? Well, get a look at this! Bam!” He held out the invitation to his and Stanford’s birthday. “Ford and I are having our birthday and you have ben corgid- corger- corgi-something invited.”

          Fiddleford’s smile fell as he looked over the date. “Oh, man. It’s at the end of the summer?”

          Stanley’s wide grin fell a bit. “Uh… yeah? Why?”

          Fiddleford bit his lip. “Ah’m not gunna be here, Lee. My cous’n’s birthday is in the beginnin’ of September an’… Ah’m sorry.”

          Stanley looked down at the stack of invitations in his hands. “So, you’re not going to our birthday party? You’re not even going to be here to wish us goodbye at the end of summer?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “No. Ah’m sorry. Summer just… happened so fast.”

          Stanley sighed and picked up his walkie talkie. “Yeah, okay. I… I’m just gunna… go, I guess.” He trudged down the sidewalk and turned on his radio. Hissing static came in response. “Ford, please come in. Our party mission is goin’ rotten. Over.” The walkie-talkie hissed back. He sighed and lowered it. Behind him, the door gently shut.

 

          Underground, Grunkle Dipper heaved open a set of doors that would normally snap together through magnets. With the power being gone for so long, they were just dead weights to push aside. He led the boy into a large, circular room bristling with all types of sharp looking machinery. It was like some sort of metal monsters stuck their arms and heads down through the ceiling and threatened the space.

          Grunkle Dipper held up his light. “This was their storage facility. At one point in time, this place would be very heavily guarded. Now, everything’s defunct.” Grunkle Dipper’s feet passed over a faint beam of light emitted from the wall near the floor. Stanford’s much shorter legs passed straight through. A section above the light glowed. “Go ahead, press any button, flip any switch. They’ve been busted for millions of years by now.”

          Stanford stopped and looked at a panel covered in symbols, most of which taking the form of circles and lines. He pressed a large button a few times. Nothing but a hollow _click-clunk_ came in response. Somewhere above them, a hole appeared in the ground and Sprott’s barn was moved to the side. The platform holding the barn went back over the hole. The second time it opened and closed, the barn fell into the hole.

          Grunkle Dipper looked around the facility with sharp eyes. “The glue should be around here somewhere, so keep your eyes peeled.”

          Stanford, ecstatic to be in such a place, looked around them with a wide grin. They passed up a skeleton with a broken helmet laying over a control panel of sorts. Its tail slipped over the panel by its head.

          Grunkle Dipper went on, “Stanford? Let me ask you something: have you thought much about your future?”

          Stanford nodded ecstatically. “Yep! I’m going to graduate high school with a high GPA so I can get accepted into a good college so I can study anomalies.”

          Grunkle Dipper laughed and stopped by a half-circle shaped room of sorts without a wall to section it off. He knelt and put the light he’d been holding on the ground in the center of it. “It’s like talking to a younger version of myself.” He walked over to a shelf in the wall and started pulling down metal octagons. “You know, Ford… I’ve been thinking. I’m getting pretty old. Gravity Falls is a big place. I was thinking of getting someone to help me study the monsters and anomalies of Gravity Falls.”

          Stanford, who was plucking metal octagons out of a dispenser in a desk, hesitated. “What are you saying?”

           “I’ve read your additions to my journal, you know.” Dipper turned and showed off Journal Three- more specifically the page over gnomes, where Stanford had scribbled in “Leaf blowers” in the “WEAKNESSES” place. Stanford turned around and looked at him. “I’m impressed with your potential. I got to thinking. You’re an adventurous young lad with a great deal of potential. How do you feel about coming around in the summer? Help Marbles and I out in figuring out the secrets of Gravity Falls?”

          Stanford had to remind himself to breath. His great uncle, the author of the journals, was asking _him_ to help? He was offering him a place by his side in monster hunting? “I-I… I mean, it sounds like a dream come true! But I was tricked by Bill, I was wrong about Mabel’s portal…” the thought of his major mistakes started to weigh down on him. “I still haven’t gotten used to this magnet gun.” He pointed it down. The gun flared to life and sucked up a metal octagon under him. As he struggled to get his gun to let go and get the metal off, he revealed its underside. Pink goo emerged from the scratches on the bottom.

          Grunkle Dipper gasped. “You did it! Ford, you found the adhesive!”

           “I did?” Stanford pulled his magnet gun back to look at the square. Pink, lightly glowing goo stuck to the other side. Stanford grinned and looked up at him. “I did! Ha-ha!”

          Grunkle Dipper laughed and hooked an arm around Stanford in a one-arm hug. “Great work! Let’s get a picture of this thing, eh?”

          _Kreegrikriiik._

          Grunkle Dipper jumped to his feet as a gurgling, scratching noise sounded in the distance. He gripped the adhesive-covered metal in one hand and pointed his magnet gun in the direction of the noise.

          Stanford bristled and jumped to his feet as well. Clinging to Grunkle Dipper’s hip, he breathed, “Grunkle Dipper? You said everything in here is _dead_ right?”

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yes. Everything in here is dead. But we might’ve-” He sucked in his breath. “The security system!”

          Out of the darkness to their left, two very large silver orbs melted from the shadows. They hovered a good three or four feet off the ground and bore down on them at a slow, steady pace. One upside down triangle gave off a dull red glow on each face. Grunkle Dipper whipped around to face them. Stanford turned as well, half-hiding behind his guardian, his own gun in his hand.

           “What do we do?!” Stanford hissed.

          Grunkle Dipper set his gaze and started to slowly walk backwards through the ship. Stanford copied him and moved to the side in order to keep himself from being tripped over. “Listen to me very carefully: I’ve studied these. These are security droids and they detect adrenaline. All you have to do is not feel any fear and they won’t see you.” He stopped. The droids slowed to a stop.

           “What?!” Stanford looked up at Grunkle Dipper. He’s one to talk! He has enough fear for the two of them and more.

           “It’s okay,” Grunkle Dipper soothed. “I’ve done this before. Just take a deep breath, focus on the mission at hand, and control your fear.” Grunkle Dipper’s hand shook a bit before he forced himself to calm down.

          Stanford stuttered and took deep breaths to calm himself. He tried to shut his eyes, but the giant, floating, shiny droids that bore down on them were giving him no choice in the matter. _Come on, come on, come_ on! _Calm down, Stanford!_

           “Follow my lead!” Grunkle Dipper ordered. “Keep calm and _focus._ ”

          Stanford took a step back and set his gaze. He couldn’t quell the thundering of his heart.

          The closest droid took out a gun and pointed it straight at Stanford. Stanford gasped and scrambled back. “I-I-I-I can’t!” The droid’s gun glowed.

           “GET DOWN!” Grunkle Dipper abandoned his position and tackled Stanford. The boy yelped as he tumbled backwards. The droid shot the space Stanford had occupied previously. Stanford’s magnet gun skittered and landed just out of reach of Stanford’s fingers. Now the boy lay under Grunkle Dipper’s shadow as the man had hopped to his feet and turned on the security drones. His magnet gun flared. The droid’s gun flashed. Grunkle Dipper howled and staggered backward. His head hit the pile of metal octagons as he fell flat on his back. A hole burned through the clothes on his burned shoulder where the flash had gotten him. The passive droid shuttered and beeped in warning as Grunkle Dipper’s gun had gone off and shot it before spiraling away. It crashed into a wall with a puff of smoke and electricity.

          The other droid turned as if watching it go before facing Grunkle Dipper again. It opened and four wire-tipped tubes whipped out and attacked Grunkle Dipper as the old man sat up. He screamed as the machine coiled itself around his arms, midsection, and legs. “Oh no! NO!” He thrashed and flipped himself over so that he could get a good grip on the ground. His fingers curled into the floor and his nails dragged across the metal like claws.

           “Oh, wait! No!” Stanford pulled himself to his feet, grabbed his gun, and ran to his great uncle. He tripped over an octagonal metal piece and fell flat on his face.

           “Stay back!” Grunkle Dipper’s eyes flashed up to meet the boy’s. “It’s too dangerous!” He let go of the floor with one hand and brought out the rift. He set it down and pushed it. The rift skidded over the floor before stopping at Stanford’s feet. “The rift! _That’s_ what’s important now!” He hissed in pain as the thing dragged him into the air, forcing him to let go of the ground, and snapped shut. The wires let go of Grunkle Dipper, allowing him to sit up on his hands and knees in the tight space. “You’re gunna have to do this alone! Forget about me! Seal the rift, save the universe, Ford!”

          The droid shuttered and blasted off through the hallway.

          Stanford stuck the rift in his backpack and tore after them. “Great Uncle Dipper! Hang on, I’m coming!” The droid ripped a path through cobwebs and vines and roots, leaving a relatively clear path of destruction for Stanford to follow. “I’ll get you out of there!” The droid slowed and melted halfway into a saucer-shaped object. “Where’s it taking you?”

          The patterns carved into the metal floor glowed a brilliant pink-purple. A red grid covered in connected pink-purple symbols and circles appeared. As Grunkle Dipper spoke, various circles were highlighted and then zoomed in, where more circles and symbols appeared. “It’s an automated prison droid! And wherever it’s going, I’m not coming back.” Grunkle Dipper’s voice stayed hard and loud, but Stanford could hear the waver in the end of his speech. The thing ended with a purple globe covered in a spider web of squares. A long, red, jail-cell shape image appeared in front of the purple hologram with a hard _Brrrrrrr!_ Symbols appeared below it and started to change.

          _“What?”_ Stanford looked up as the top of the spacecraft opened. Dirt and debris rained down into the compartment. Stanford grimaced as sunlight, harsh and bright, flooded the crashed spaceship. Red symbols appeared before the saucer Grunkle Dipper was trapped within. A mechanical arm pushed the sunflower-seed-shaped saucer out. The red symbols changed all the while like a countdown.

           “No, no, _NO!_ I’ll think of something!” Stanford yelled and ran after the spaceship. He looked about and then down at his gun. Stanford set his gaze and whipped out a roll of duct-tape.

           “Stanford!” Grunkle Dipper cried, watching the boy running beneath him with round eyes. “What are you _doing?_ ”

          Stanford turned on the device and rolled layers upon layers of duct-tape over it and his hand and wrist and upper arm to keep it steady. “Hold on, Grunkle Dipper!” Stanford yelled and stopped under the spacecraft as the thing holding his great uncle prisoner let go of the arm, stopped and flipped over so that the sunflower-seed-shaped saucer faced tip-up and prison-bubble down. It hovered a few meters above Stanford, now. “I’m getting you out of there one way or the other!” Stanford pointed up and activated the gun. It powered down. He gasped and banged on its side. The magnetic tips sparked in wild electricity. “No! Turn on! Turn on!”

          The countdown behind them ticked down until all the symbols were the same.

          Stanford compressed and let go of the trigger multiple times. “Come on, come on!” Then, a little green plus near the back of the gun, now on the only place that wasn’t compressed with duct-tape, glowed. Stanford was shot up and now held onto the bottom of the spacecraft, right next to his great uncle. Grunkle Dipper could only watch him in wide-eyed, speechless horror.

          The spacecraft shuttered and then burst off through the tunnel to the surface. Stanford, screaming, flattened himself to the metal exterior of the prison. His eyes bulged and his screams heightened in pitch as they barreled toward a sturdy metal grate. The spacecraft broke through it like wet paper and burst into the sky in a trail of smoke and fire.

          Stanford gasped and wheezed. The wind shoved into him like a rapid current, trying vainly to push him away and throw him to his doom. The air started to get light. Stanford looked down at the spacecraft with watery eyes and did the only thing he could think of doing. He punched the metal with all his might. “Let my great uncle go!” The spacecraft shuttered.

          _Treee-ooo! Treee-ooo! Treee-ooo!_

          The four dots on the front of the spacecraft flashed in red light as the old machinery started to malfunction.

          Stanford kept his head down as the thing spiraled out of control, zipping every which way in a confused spiral. Trees shuttered and bent over as the wind from the spacecraft burst into them. The space craft barreled toward the cliffs. Stanford screamed and pulled his arm in front of himself to shield his eyes. The machine scraped through a very narrow slit in the cliffs where the wing tips of the alien spacecraft had originally cut through. Water from the cliffs spattered over the craft and stung Stanford’s arms. The townspeople gasped and ducked and held onto their hats as the spacecraft zoomed over them so low it nearly scraped the buildings. They burst through the water tower, spilling water over the park below.

          The spacecraft shuttered on impact. Grunkle Dipper was thrown up, where he hit the top of his tiny prison, and fell limp on the bottom. Stanford looked down. Grunkle Dipper’s montionless form faced away from him. “Great Uncle Dipper! Oh no. Okay.” He turned to the magnet gun that connected him to his only hope of survival. “Let’s try… magnet pulse!” He turned the dial on the butt of the weapon. The string of lights on the sides glowed and dimmed in a rapid pattern that pointed to the end of the gun. Ripples of magnetic energy shimmered over the craft. It shuttered. Electricity arched and burst from various points in the spacecraft. It let out a warning cry as it rapidly lost altitude.

          Trees exploded and rocks dematerialized as the enemy craft crashed into the woods and momentum shoved it feet into the ground and forward.

          Stanford, battered and torn, lay in the smoking ditch left behind. He groaned and blinked open his eyes. A few yards away, the broken spacecraft that held prisoner his unconscious great uncle lay smoking and dead. Stanford yelped in pain as he tried to get up. He was grimly reminded of when Bill possessed him and beat himself up in any and every way possible. Stanford, eyes watering from the awful stench of metal smoke and the feeling of burning pain everywhere, got to his feet and ran over to the spacecraft.

          Grunkle Dipper, covered in stray dirt and broken machinery, lay in a heap. A broken mechanical tendril that had dragged him into captivity lay over him.

          Stanford grabbed onto one of his wrists and dragged him into the light. “Come on, man! Please! We have to get out of here before–”

          _Dzzzzzzzrrrrrrrr_.

          Stanford turned around.

          Smoking and sparking, the droid that had been shot hovered before them.

          Stanford planted his feet in the ground before his great uncle and held out his magnet gun. “Get back! I’m warning you! I have a magnet gun!”

          The droid shuttered as a giant gun spanning the length of its own gargantuan body unfolded from its top and pointed down. Lights glowed at the end pointed straight at him.

          Stanford glowered at it. “Yeah? Think you can scare me? Do your worst! Nothing in this universe will separate me from my great uncle again. Go ahead! Do your worst! Give me what you got!”

          The droid “stared” Stanford down. For the longest time, neither did anything. Stanford’s wheezing gasps for air and the droid’s quite whirrs were the only noise that dared interrupt the stunned, terrified silence the world around them lived in.

          Then, the droid retracted its gun, shuttered, and collapsed.

          Stanford put a hand on his chest and took a few seconds to calm himself down.

          Grunkle Dipper laughed. Stanford whipped around. Behind him, Grunkle Dipper was sitting up with his hands planted firmly on the ground to keep himself upright. He looked up at his great nephew with a pride and reverence Stanford could hardly believe was aimed at him. Grunkle Dipper’s body shuttered in a cough. “Oh, oh I thought I was a goner, Ford.”

          Stanford raced to his side and helped him up. “Are you alright? What just happened?”

          Grunkle Dipper, leaning heavily on his great nephew, limped over to the side of the ditch and sat down with his back against the dirt wall. “The droid didn’t detect fear. It assumed the threat had passed and self-disassembled.”

          Stanford’s eyes grew round. “I-I did it?”

          Grunkle Dipper smiled and shut his eyes. “You did it.”

          Stanford looked over to the spacecraft and crept up to it. His own reflection warped and grew bigger as he stood before it. Behind him, Grunkle Dipper smiled back at him. “This is what I was talking about, Ford. How many other twelve-year-olds do you know that could possibly do what you’ve just done?”

 

          Stanley sat, cross-legged, in the middle of his room. He looked over a picture they’d taken a while back. He couldn’t remember what the occasion was, but everyone–Stanford, Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Dan, Nick, Hank, Waddles, Gompers, all of Dan’s friends–had gone in for a group photo. Grauntie Mabel held the camera so her arm took up a bit of space. Everyone was grinning and laughing and there were some party supplies being used or having been used. The happy memory turned melancholic. He frowned at the paper he held.

          Grauntie Mabel, a purple, long book in her hands, opened the door. “Hey, Hun-bun. Are you alright?”

          Stanley glanced up and then back down at the picture. He sighed. “Summer’s ending, Grauntie Mabel. I’m going to be leaving everyone. Now that I know how awful high school’s going to be, I’m… I’m in no hurry to move on.”

          Grauntie Mabel sat down next to him and hooked an arm around him. “Ah, no one likes getting older. Heh. Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you have to grow up! Look at me; already getting a senior discount but I still bake cookies with glitter in them!”

           “But I don’t want to say goodbye to Gravity Falls,” Stanley muttered.

          Grauntie Mabel looked over the picture he held. “That’s a pretty picture you got there.” She brought out the purple book and handed it to him. Oddly enough, the purple book was plain, save for the pink, glittery, gel-pen letters “Summer Memories” scrawled on it. “Why don’t you add it in?”

          Stanley looked up at her and then the book. He carefully popped it open. Pictures and words dressed the papers like glitter on a horse statue. From pictures of their very first day, still holding luggage and looking about with cautious, curious eyes like a couple of lost pups, to the fishing trip a few days later. From the party they threw at the Mystery Shack to the Bottomless Pit they’d fallen into. From Gompers’ first day at the Shack to when the zombies were attacking.

          Oh, now he remembered. They’d taken that party after the season finale of Duck-tective and they’d found everyone at the park.

          Stanley set the picture in a clear spot a few pages away from the time they played that nerd game and the wizard came to life. Grauntie Mabel handed him a bit of glue. Stanley smiled as he fit the little picture in and watched it settle. Like magic, it blended into the book and made it that much more colorful. He took out a pen and scribbled next to it. “Family photo! No wizards in sight!”

          Grauntie Mabel ruffled his hair. “Welcome to the scrapbooking party, Stanley!”

          Stanley grinned and, after blowing on the page a little bit to help it dry, looked over more pictures. “Wow… I didn’t even know you took these pictures.”

           “I’m sneaky like that.”

          Stanley’s smile died. “But I’m going to have to leave. We’ll be leaving everything behind!”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Hun-bun, you may not be in Gravity Falls, but you’ll never get rid of it.” She tapped his head. “As long as those memories are still in your head,” she tapped his chest, “-and in your heart, you’ll always be here. Besides, you’ll always have Ford at your side, remember?”

           “Oh, yeah.” Stanley’s smile returned. “Ford! I can rely on him. We’ll always be together. And then we can go to high school together.”

           “That’s the spirit!” Grauntie Mabel laughed and ruffled his hair. “Keep the scrapbook, Lee. Next time I see it, you better have filled it all up with your new high school adventures.”

          Stanley ducked out of her grasp with a light laugh. “I mean, if I _have_ to.”

           “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Or I’ll sick Waddles on you!”

          Stanley leaned back. “He’ll eat me!”

           “You bet he will.” Grauntie Mabel stood up. “You get to feeling better, Lee. Remember what we talked about. It’s okay to be afraid, you know.”

          Stanley nodded and watched her leave. He looked back down at the scrapbook, down at Stanford holding up the first fish he’d ever caught and Stanley pointing to him, a proud, excited grin on his drenched features. “Yeah. I’ll always be able to rely on Ford. Ol’ reliable, smarty-pants, best bro F–”

          _Hsssss_

          Stanley perked up. The walkie-talkie in his backpack came to life.

 

          Stanford knelt beside his great uncle, who was currently resting. Grunkle Dipper, head tipped back and eyes closed, sat with his back against an upturned pile of debris. He opened his eyes. “Stanford?”

           “Yes, Grunkle Dipper?”

           “You are an extraordinary kid.” Grunkle Dipper ruffled his hair, causing Stanford to duck out of his grasp and laugh. “I’m sorry for underestimating you, Ford. I knew you had an interest in the paranormal, but… you’re a kid. You’ve never had to go through anything like this before.”

           “I know,” Stanford agreed with a firm nod. “-and that’s why I need to be here! If I’m going to hunt down anomalies, I’ll have to know about them, right?”

           “Yes, you do,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “You’ll also have to learn how to be careful so you don’t end up like me.”

          Stanford thought for a moment. “Well… you know a lot about the paranormal and you’ve already made big mistakes and learned from them. Could you teach me about them?”

           “I teach you?” Grunkle Dipper echoed. “Well, Ford… I… Wow. You actually want some awkward nerd like me to teach you about gnomes and fairies?” He sat up straighter.

          Stanford nodded. He grabbed is bag, scooped his walkie-talkie into it, and sat down beside Grunkle Dipper. “Yeah, definitely! I mean, I wouldn’t be able to learn a fraction of what you did in my back-water school.”

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “You know… that’s an interesting thought. If I’d known about these dangers earlier…” He looked down at Stanford. “Having an apprentice doesn’t sound too shabby.”

           “An apprentice?” Stanford echoed. _Teaching is one thing, but an apprenticeship?_

           “Yeah.” Grunkle Dipper grinned and then grimaced as he sat up. “This place is a magnet for things that are _special_. Stanford, you’re special.” His smile wavered. “Oh. But what about Stanley? You two have never been apart before.”

           “I know,” Stanford agreed, a slight bitterness coming to his tone. “And it’s _suffocating!_ I mean, I love him, but… we aren’t going to be with each other forever.”

          Grunkle Dipper frowned. After a moment, he went on in a slow voice. “I understand, Stanford. But… let’s take the night to think this over, alright? Come on. Mable’s gunna be so ticked off if we don’t get home in time for dinner.” Stanford helped him up and, hooking an arm around Dipper’s middle, allowed the old man to lean on him as they made their way back home. The walkie-talkie in Stanford’s backpack hissed.

          In the Mystery Shack, Stanley stared at the walkie talkie in his hands. The little red light blinked on and off. Suffocating… suffocating… _suffocating._ The word swirled in Stanley’s mind like an agitated shark. Stanford thought that being his brother was _suffocating?_

 

          Sunset light sent hues of gold and red into the attic. It threw shadows and heated the already warm space. Stanley sat cross legged on his bed, facing the corner. The door opened. “Stanley! You won’t even guess what happened!” Stanford took off his backpack and set it next to door. He jabbered on as he walked, “UFOs are real and there’s one under the town and I saved Grunkle Dipper’s life and… and… Stanley?” Stanford found himself in the middle of the room by the time he noticed Stanley hadn’t even twitched to acknowledge his existence. “Stanley, are you alright?”

           “I-it’s not true,” Stanley stated, his voice muffled a bit and his breath shaky. “Tell me it’s not true, Ford.” He turned around and held out his walkie talkie, which hissed. Stanford glanced back. His own walkie-talkie, half sticking out of his bag, hissed back. Stanford turned back to Stanley. “Dipper’s apprentice? _Seriously?_ ”

           “Yeah,” Stanford answered. “I am. Look, Stanley, this is a great opportunity for me!” Stanford smiled. “I can study anomalies and learn about dimensions and demons and spells and magical items!”

          Stanley turned around completely. His shoulders were hunched and he wrinkled his nose. “Well it’s a _horrible_ opportunity for me! I just had the worst day ever!” He threw his hands in the air. “And you don’t even care! We’re turning thirteen and summer’s ending and we have to leave everything behind and go back home!” Stanley hopped to his feet. “I thought we were in this together!”

          Stanford shook his head. “Look, Stanley. I’ve been thinking… you just aren’t into anomalies as much as I am and we’d just weigh each other down–”

           “Weigh you down?” Stanley echoed. His gaze hardened. “That’s what you think, huh? That I’d weigh you down?”

          Stanford bit his lip. “N-no! No, I wasn’t saying that! I didn’t mean it like that!”

           “What about the Stan o’ War? I thought that we were going to finish that and sail around the world together.”

          Stanford hesitated as he mulled over his potential words.

          Stanley relaxed and stared at him. “Y… you didn’t mean it, did you?”

           “What? No! I-I was just saying that things aren’t going to stay this way for–”

           “You didn’t mean it!” Stanley snapped. His voice started to become brittle. “You just think I’m a dumb idiot, too! Just like everyone else! You want me out of here so that you can learn about goblins and fairies. You care more about your dumb mysteries than your own family! Than _me?_ Well, _fine._ I get it.” He snatched the closest book and shoved it into his brother’s hands. “You can have ’em.” He turned away from Stanford and raced out the door. He plucked the bag closest as he went. His tongue started to bleed as he bit down on it to keep the tears from flowing.

          Stanford ran to the door. “Stanley, wait! Stanley! Come back!” He looked down at the book he’d been given. _“Summer Memories”_ scrawled across the purple cover in pink gel pen.

 

          Stanley ran out of the Mystery Shack and into the heavily wooded forest. He ran until his lungs started to hurt. Eventually, he plopped down under one of the ancient pines and curled up into himself. Under the sanctity of the trees where no one could see him, Stanley broke down and allowed himself to cry.

          After he’d exhausted himself to the point where he’d fallen into sniffling and whimpering, he stuck his hand into the backpack. “I need some chocolate.” He picked up a notebook. “Huh? Nerd books? Chewed up pens?” He held up a few pens, some of which stained the ends of his fingers in black and blue. He dropped them into the backpack again. “ _Ugh._ Wrong backpack.” He curled up into a tighter ball. “Why doesn’t Ford want me around? Why do I have to leave? Why can’t summer just last forever?” he mumbled and hiccupped.

           “That might be possible!”

          Stanley jumped and looked up. He quickly smothered his grief and tried to turn it into tough, indignant anger. His tear-stained face and red eyes did him no good. “Get lost!”

           “S-S-S-Stanley, it’s me,” the cracking voice stammered.

           “What?” Stanley stared at the trees before him. “Who are you?”

          Materializing before him was the portly, mostly bald time-traveler whom they’d given his hair and his job back. His goggles flashed in the dull sunset light. “I-I-I can help.”

           “Time travel guy?” Stanley wiped his face and sat up straight. “What are you doing here?”

          Blendin stopped just a pace short of Stanley. “Y-you said you don’t want summer to end, right? D-did-did I hear that right?”

          Stanley nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

          Blendin shifted his feet. “Look, maybe it’s against the rules, b-b-but you did a favor for me, so I-I thought I could help you out.” His grin widened and he set a hand behind his back. “It’s called a time bubble, and it prevents time from going forward. Summer in Gravity Falls can last as long as you want it to!”

          Stanley wiped his face again. “How does it work?”

          Blendin held up his arm and tapped a device on his wrist. A blue hologram of the cracked rift floated above his wrist. “I-I just need you to get a little gizmo for me from your uncle. It’s something small. H-he-he won’t even know it’s missing.”

          Stanley watched the universe shift and deform in the hologram container. He rifled through his brother’s back. “Okay. I think Ford has somethin’ like that in his nerd bag.”

 

          Stanford, Stanley’s bag in hand, trudged out of the elevator and into the basement. Grunkle Dipper set something up in a high shelf. He paused as the boy entered but didn’t look down. “He didn’t take it well.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Of course not. He just doesn’t understand.”

           “In time, you both will come to a decision that’s best for both of you.” Grunkle Dipper stated and climbed down the ladder he’d stood upon. “But right now, we need to focus on the mission. Come on, I’ve got the glue.” He pulled out the octagonal, foreign slab of metal plastered with vibrant pinkish purple glue. “Hand me the rift and let’s make history.”

          Stanford dug into the bag and then hesitated. He drew out a flier to their birthday party. Stanford blanched. He hardly choked out the obvious. “Stanley has the rift.”

 

          Stanley pulled out the snow globe-container and held it up to the light. The universe shifted and swirled within. The stars and the depth and impossibility of it was enchanting. A fracture tarnished its otherwise perfect top. His reflection stared back at him from the glass. “Huh,” he huffed, attempting to drag himself out of the awed, curious trance he’d set himself up to be in. “This is… uh, is this it?” He held up the rift for Blendin to see.

          Blendin nodded, his smile widening into a painfully large grin. He held out his hands. “Y-yes, that’s it! J-just hand it over and I’ll do my thing.” His grin turned sly and he raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re ready to leave Gravity Falls and go back to your father.”

          Stanley tore his gaze away from the rift and gave him a firm nod. “Yeah. Just a little more summer.” He stood up.

          Blendin grabbed the rift a bit too quickly and took a step back. He stared at the rift with an unnerving amount of excitement. “Oops.” He dropped it. The rift _shattered._ Blendin’s foot came down hard and rubbed it in, breaking more glass and smothering the universe-colored liquid.

          Stanley took a step back. “Wh-what?!”

          Blendin fell into a loud, harsh, uncontrollable fit of laughter. He plucked his goggles off his face, revealing two yellow eyes with cat-like pupils. His laugh changed in pitch and became the bone-chilling, paralysis-inducing laugh Stanley knew all too well.

           “Oh no! No! Wait!” Stanley yelped. His back hit the tree. “I didn’t mean it!”

          Blendin interrupted his laugh long enough to snap his fingers. Stanley fainted. Blendin hovered a foot or so in the air, doubled over as if kicked in the gut, and then flipped himself over so far back so hard he nearly snapped his own spine. Bill squeezed out his belly, cackling and howling like a madman. Blendin fell onto the red-and-orange forest hard on his back. “ **AT LAST! AT LONG, LONG LAST! THE GATEWAY BETWEEN WORLDS HAS OPENED! THE EVENT ONE BILLION YEARS PROPHESIZED HAS FINALLY COME TO PASS! THE DAY HAS COME! THE WORLD IS FINALLY _MINE!_** ” Bill shouted to the heavens as he ascended into the cloudy sky.

          The wind picked up. All around them, the forest shuttered and moaned and the clouds scurried and frothed. The broken remnants of the rift crackled and then burst. A blue, translucent laser arched and crackled and zipped up like lightning. The laser expanded and shot up into the clouds. A giant ‘X’ ripped through the sky. Bill’s maniacal laughter rang out through the terrified, shocked forest.

          In the town below, the townsfolk could only watch in pure shock as a rip tore through the sky, revealing a psychedelic, ever-shifting merge of vibrant colors and rainbows like oil in water shifting in the light. Clouds leaked up like a lava lamp. Their mouths opened and eyes grew wide as they gazed upon the nightmare unfurling before them.

          Stanford and Grunkle Dipper ran out into the yard of the Mystery Shack. The two stopped in their tracks. The Nightmare Realm gave off an earie, multi-colored glow that the dying sun could not overpower. It threw their shadows in weird directions and lit up their dirty clothes and hair and skin in weird hues. Stanford looked up at the rip in the sky. “What’s going on?! What _is_ that?!”

           “It’s too late,” Grunkle Dipper wheezed. “It’s the end of the world.”

          Bill’s shadow fell over them as he rose into the sky, cackling and howling in delight.

 

L **B** Q NIXAHZURX GZ FTI VFX 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Stanford. _summer_


	14. Weirdmaggedon: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst has happened. Bill has taken over. Gravity Falls is in ruins. Do they even have a chance?

          _August 14 th, 2012; Day One._

          The sleepy town of Gravity Falls had been plunged into hell.

          Trees shuttered and groaned in the confusing mess of wind. Objects as large as golf-ball size rocks rose off the ground. The very air shuttered in the chaos. Overhead, the red and purple sky was broken by a giant ‘X’ rip in the sky, revealing a plane of psychedelic oil, shifting and shining in the colors of the rainbow. In the center of the sky, his black and white body sharp against the lights of the Nightmare Realm, Bill shrieked his laughter and spread wide his arms in the joy of his plans finally, _finally,_ coming to fruition.

           “ **OH, IT’S HAPPENING!** ” Bill laughed. Blue bulbs of energy swirled and condensed on his triangular body. “ **IT’S FINALLY, FINALLY, HAPPENING!** ” The blue energy bulbs melted into his silver skin. Flesh crept up from his bottom side and enveloped his body. Lightning shrieked around him. Bill crossed his arms. Metal plates reared and snapped over his body. “ **PHYSICAL FORM? DON’T MIND IF I…** ” He snapped his arms out. The metal splintered and his body, for a measly moment, was constructed of crystal. “ ** _...DO!_** ” His body glowed and then flashed in a brilliant white light so that he became a triangular sun in the sky.

          In the forest below, Blendin woke up. “H-huh? Wh-what’s just happened?” He put a hand on his head and looked around. Stanley, utterly unconscious, glowed in soft red light as he was lifted into the air. His arms, legs, and head hung like a ragdoll out of stuffing and his clothes waved in the wind. “O-oh. Oh man! This is bad!” The soft red glow around Stanley expanded into a bubble. Its glow became sharp and opaque as it made a hot pink bubble with a blood red mackerel stamped on the side. Three chains whipped around it and snapped in place. “Oh, this is real bad!” Blendin jabbered on. He pressed something on his watch. “Guys, we’ve got a situation!” He was gone in a flash of light.

 

          In town, the people stopped what they were doing and looked up. A frisbee smacked one of the Corduroy kids in the face. Another person dropped their groceries.

          Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland recoiled. “What the–?”

           “Lazy” Susan opened her failing eye. “Wha?”

          Bill’s shadow fell over the town. People backed up or shied away or stood up against the giant shadow that fell over them. “Tough Girl” Wendy, glaring daggers, swept her youngest sons into her arms. Preston took a few steps back until he was pressed up against Pacifica. Bill laughed, his voice deep and booming. Blacker than the void of night with outlined bricks lighter than the sun, Bill floated above them. He’d turned into a pyramid and broke into three pieces. His middle and bottom piece both rotated in different directions as he gained pleasure in playing with his newfound power. Six arms burst out of him, all turned up and all glowing in blue fire.

           “ **ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP YOU ONE LIFESPAN, THREE DIMENSIONAL, FIVE SENSE, SKIN PUPPETS!** ” He melted back into a single triangle, quite like himself, though he kept the odd colors. His voice transformed back into its normal, pitched self. “ **FOR ONE TRILLION YEARS I’VE BEEN TRAPPED IN MY OWN DECAYING DIMENSION** ,” Bill lowered himself so that he stood on the pole the statue of Nathaniel Northwest held and set a hand on his head. “ **-WAITING FOR A NEW UNIVERSE TO CALL MY OWN. NAME’S BILL!** ”

          He floated away from the statue and appeared above the crowd. His dark colors melted back into the shades of gold he normally wore. “ **BUT YOU CAN CALL ME YOUR NEW LORD AND MASTER FOR ALL OF ETERNITY!** ” Without a breath out of place, Bill turned around. His pupil turned into a blue laser and melted Nathaniel Northwest’s statue until it was a red-hot glob of molten, and then rapidly cooling, stone. The crowd gasped. He turned around so that he faced the crowd again. “ **NOW MEET THE GANG OF INTERDIMENSIONAL CRIMINALS AND NIGHTMARES I CALL MY FRIENDS! EIGHT-BALL! KRYPTOS! THE BEING WHOSE NAME MUST NEVER BE SAID!** ”

          A greenish gold goblin creature with chains over its left ankle and left wrist and eight-balls for eyes floated down from the rift, his mouth open and eyes lazily gazing in uncontrolled directions. A chattering bluish gray diamond etched with fine designs descended, cackling, from the portal- arms spread wide and legs in front of him to aid in his descent. A giant, moldy-bread shaped monster bristling with a few shrubs and armed with ape arms and legs jumped from the rift and crashed into the ground, causing the whole town to shutter. A tiny party hat popped out of its head.

          Bill laughed. “ **OH, WHAT THE HECK! IT’S XANTHAR! THEN OF COURSE, THERE’S ALSO TEETH, KEYHOLE, HECTOGORGON, AMORPHOUS SHAPE, PYRONICA, PACI-FIRE, AND THESE GUYS.** ” A walking pair of dentures taller than Deputy Durland, a bluish, squat humanoid with a giant forehead with a key-shaped hole in its forehead, a red octagon with a mustache half the size of its face, and a line of boxes and squares with dangling cords appeared around him. A tall, one-eyed, horned, fiery pink humanoid light in light pink flames leaned on a squat, gray creature with eyes on his chest and a pacifier hooked on a chain to its leg taking up most of its belly. Around them floated a horde of eyeballs with giant black bat wings accented red. “ **THIS IS OUR TOWN NOW, BOYS!** ”

          He set his hands on his “hips” and laughed. His friends laughed uproariously, stamping their feet and raising their voices and punching the air.

          Once they quieted down a bit, Mayor Tyler Cutebiker took a step forward. “Now see here, you unholy triangle fella! As mayor, I strongly urge you to git… git on out of here!” He pointed back to the sky.

          Bolstered by his speech, the other townsfolk began to speak. “Lazy” Susan glared at him. “Yeah! Things with one eye are weird!”

          Grenda roared, “We don’t like out-of-towners!”

           “Tough-Girl” Wendy tore a mailbox in half. “We punch what we _don’t understand!_ ”

          Auldman Northwest took a step forward. “I would just like to say that, as a rich capitalist, I _welcome_ your tyrannical rule. Perhaps I could be one of your, uh… horsemen of the apocalypse?”

          Pacifica shot a nervous glare at him, her grip on Preston stronger. “Auldman!”

           “Not now, Pacifica.” Auldman waved his hand.

          Bill, so far less-than-mildly amused, crossed his legs a put a finger to his face, just above his bowtie. “ **OH, WOW THAT’D A GREAT OFFER.** ” He lowered his arms and stared at Auldman. “ **HOW ’BOUT, INSTEAD, I SHUFFLE THE FUNCTIONS OF EVERY HOLE IN YOUR FACE.** ” He snapped his fingers.

          Auldman’s face shifted. In place of his eyes were ears. In place of his mouth was one very large eye. His ears were replaced with nostrils. He screamed and fell on his knees. After a bit of flailing, he tried to get to his family, who stepped away from him, and fell flat on his stomach.

          The crowd was set off and the townspeople scattered.

          Bill laughed as people scurried away like spiders from under a rock. He pointed his finger and shot a blue laser as Deputy Durland, who turned to stone. Sherriff Blubbs managed to catch him. “Durland!” A bat swooped by and caught Durland in its red gaze. Sherriff Blubbs clung the statue of his fellow officer. “My precious Deputy Durland! _NO!_ ” He fell in a stumble as Deputy Durland was ripped from his grasp and flown away.

          Behind Bill, the water tower with an alien-space-craft-shaped hole came to life and started walking.

          Bill clapped his hands and rubbed them together.  “ **IT’S TIME WE DO A LITTLE REDECORATING. I COULD REALLY USE A CASTLE OF SOME KIND!** ” Bill raised his arms beside him. From the forest, stone and bricks flew up and formed into a dark maroon pyramid whose cracks glowed in red and gold light floating in the sky. It’s tip, disconnected, hovered a few yards above it. A cloud of debris floated around the base of the pyramid. Bill turned to the town. “ **AND HOW ABOUT SOME BUBBLES OF _PURE MADNESS!_** ” Bubbles shifting like oil on water in various colors and hues emerged from the forest and thin air and floated down the streets. A purple one passed through Sprott, who ripped off his shirt and screamed bloody murder as it passed over him.

          Bill continued to yell as the world bowed and twisted to his whim. “ **THIS PARTY NEVER STOPS. TIME IS DEAD AND MEANING HAS NO MEANING. EXISTANCE IS UPSIDE DOWN AND I RULE SUPREME. _WELCOME, ONE AND ALL, TO WEIRDMAGEDDON!_** ” Around him, the clocks stopped. Birds stopped in flight, some beaks were opened in mid scream. A shockwave burst from the pyramid in the sky and washed over the town. Inanimate objects ran about along with the gargantuan monsters that had been summoned. Blood rained from some heavy clouds. Eye-bats scattered in the wind. The giant lumberjack statue by the burning gas station turned its head and started to roam the streets. The Gravity Falls waterfall shifted. The water ran red and ran up into the maroon clouds above. The trees grew feet.

          Standing before the Mystery Shack, Grunkle Dipper and Stanford faced the chaos. Grunkle Dipper stared into the Nightmare Realm. “So, this is how the world ends.”

           “Weirdmaggedon,” Stanford agreed.

          The two gasped and ducked as birds swooped in and flew overhead. Animals ran from the forest in herds. Snakes slipped between badgers and rabbits hopped alongside foxes. Wolves ran with deer and gnomes scrambled over the feet of a manotaur. Stanford was thrown down by the stampede. Gnomes hissed and complained in passing.

          Grunkle Dipper helped him to his feet. “This rift is shattered. The Nightmare Realm, Bill’s world, is spilling into ours. Every minute this goes on, he grows stronger.”

          Stanley stared into the forest and shook his head. “Stanley! The rift must’ve broken inside his backpack. He’s in danger, he has to be!” He turned on his walkie talkie. “Stanley! Come in, Stanley! Answer me!”

          He started to run off when Grunkle Dipper took him by the shoulder. “Ford! Listen to me. We can find your brother, but we’ll have to stop Bill, first.” Stanford looked up at him. He began to disagree, but he remembered who was speaking with him and quickly shut his mouth. “If we blast him back through the rift he came out of, we may be able to stop him before his weirdness spreads to the entire globe.”

           “You’re sure defeating Bill is possible?” Stanford prompted.

          Grunkle Dipper took a shaky breath. “No.” He looked down at him. “But being a hero isn’t about fighting only when you’re sure you’ll win. Being a hero means fighting back, even when it seems impossible. Will you follow me?”

          Stanford nodded. “To the ends of the Earth.” _Defeating Bill. Of every destiny the world could have given him, defeating Bill wasn’t too shabby a one… if it was possible, of course._

           “Good.” Grunkle Dipper gained a small smile. “Because that’s where we’re going. But first, let’s step inside.” He took Stanford’s hand and raced into the Mystery Shack.

          A gnome pointed to his home and the weird purplish wave that washed over Gravity Falls. “ _Weirdness wave!_ ”

          Inanimate objects around the team grew eyes and teeth and legs and screeched as they abandoned their former positions.

          Fiddleford, in his backyard, watched Bill’s ascent with wide eyes. He could hardly even breathe. His mind went blank. He may as well have been in another universe trying to understand alien philosophy under threat of death. At least then, he’d understand what was going on.

          Fiddleford sucked in his breath as his grandfather scooped him up and ran into the house. He managed to throw him into Fiddleford’s room before the wave passed over them.

          The boy scrambled to his feet and looked out the window. He gasped. “Oh my- Grandpa!” He turned around and ran into the house. “Grandpa! G- Where are you?”

           “Calm down.”

          Fiddleford stopped and gasped. His grandfather had turned into a musical instrument. “Grandpa!”

           “Relax,” his grandpa stated. “The house is safe.”

          Fiddleford looked back. “B-but what about you? My friends?”

           “I’ll be fine,” his grandfather reassured him. “Don’t you worry about me. You help everyone else.”

          Fiddleford set his gaze and nodded. “You’re right. I can’t freeze up now. Be brave. I’ll find a way to save you, Grandpa.” He ran into his room and started to assemble his toolbelt and backpack.

          By the Mystery Shack, Grauntie Mabel was pinning up a sign. Waddles, standing on a relatively flat rock, munched on her tassel. She gasped and turned around. “No! Waddles, bad!” She took her fez back and set it on her head. She put her hands on her hips. “It’s really time I teach you not to eat clothes.”

          The weirdness wave fell over them.

          Waddles grew until his fat head breeched the trees. Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Waddles! AHH!” She dove out of the way of one of his hooved feet as the gargantuan pig walked off the property.

 

          In town, the arcade exploded as video game characters came to life. Rumble McSkirmish punched the air. “Ha! Freedom! Freedom to _punch!_ ”

 

          Gravity Falls Maximum Security Prison stood tall and hardy, even in the apocalypse. Within the barb-tipped, heavy concrete walls, a group of inmates sat in a room with a man in a paint-smudged painter’s smock. A slew of pictures decorated one wall.

          The man held up a hand to the pictures. “Okay, inmates, time to review your finger paintings.” He nodded his head to each picture as he passed. “Good. Nice. Mhm.” He gasped and stopped by Bud’s painting, which was torn and decorate with a knife. “REVENGE” scrawled across it. A few smudged pictures of Stanley were taped to a few edges. He sighed. “Bud, does this look like someone who’s ready to re-enter society?”

          A massive man with a great, bright brown beard and mullet and ghostly white eyes yelled, “Bud’s unappreciated in his time!”

          Bud grinned. “Oh, Ghost-Eyes, you’re makin’ me blush!”

          Another prisoner agreed, “Bud makes prison life worth livin’.”

          All of the prisoners excluding Bud started chanting his name. Bud crossed his arms and smirked at the man in the painter’s smock.

          They gasped as the ground shuttered. Waddles bit the top corner of the entire building off. More rubble fell and broke off more pipes and stone. Waddles spat out the tasteless cement and pipes and went on to find a better meal.

          Everyone but the man in the painter’s smock, who’d been mostly buried in the rubble, went out to the edge of the building and looked out at the monster-ridden nightmare outside, eyes wide and mouths agape. A blue, three-headed bird with glowing red eyes landed on Bud’s finger. It opened its toothy beaks and let out a shrill shriek before calming. Bud smiled. “Oh my. Bill came through.”

 

          Downtown, Bill stayed with his friends. “ **READY TO CAUSE SOME HAVOC, BOYS?** ” The other monsters laughed and cheered.

          Behind Bill, in the clocktower, Grunkle Dipper and Stanford crouched. Stanford opened the window to see Bill and took out binoculars. Grunkle Dipper heaved a large box longer than Stanford was tall labeled “Experiment 618” onto the floor they were on and set it down. He shed his backpack and opened the box like a guitar case. “Ah, my quantum destabilizer.” He looked over the giant weapon that had once been strapped to his back. “I’ve been waiting a _long time_ to use this. Now, we are only going to have _one_ shot.” He picked up the weapon. It looked like a cross between a rectangular bazooka and a gun with two long, wide pinchers like that of a vise. Grunkle Dipper fiddled with a circular mechanism. The vise opened. A glowing blue bubble blew out of a hole within the gun between the vise and expanded. It didn’t let go, almost like a water balloon stuck to the faucet. He closed one eye and looked down the sights. “Steady… steady… steady…”

          A wave washed over the clocktower. The bell sprang to life and rattled loudly. “Woo-hoo-hoo-haaa-aaa-hoo! I’m alive now!”

          Grunkle Dipper jumped. His hands clenched, squeezing the trigger. A blue beam zapped through Bill’s hat and caused a tree in front of him to blow up. The hole through bone and flesh and skin healed from the inside out. The two stared at the dream demon and his silent friends in horror.

           “ **WELL, WELL, WELL.** ” Bill’s face moved around his side and his arms and legs flipped so that he had turned around. “ **-AND HERE I THOUGHT TODAY COULDN’T GET ANY _BETTER!_** ” He pointed a finger at the clocktower. The beam, hardly wider than the circumference of a golden dollar, zipped through the tower. The entire top _exploded._

          Stanford, having been thrown across the room and hit with rubble, sat up and shook his head. He adjusted his cracked glasses and gasped at the sight of his great uncle, half buried under rubble. “Grunkle Dipper!”

          The man’s eyes shot open. He gasped and looked about as the rubble squashed and pinned him. He shoved his backpack to Stanford. “Listen, Ford! Take my journals. There’s another way to defeat Bill. You have to- oh no.” The air itself hissed as Bill rose. “No! Ford, get down!”

          Stanford grabbed the backpack and hid inside the staircase going down.

          Bill, larger than the clocktower, rose up, hands on his hips. His eye was completely red, save his pupil which was white and in the shape of a pine tree. “ **GOOD OLD, PINE TREE. I’VE BEEN WAITING AN-** ” Bill’s voice became deep and booming. “- **ETERNITY-** ” Bill’s voice returned to normal. “ **-TO HAVE A CHAT FACE-TO-FACE.** ” Grunkle Dipper gasped as he, and the rubble, glowed in red light. Bill turned around and presented Grunkle Dipper to his friends like a master would show off a new squeaky toy to a pack of eager puppies. “ **EVERYONE! THIS ARMAGEDDON WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT THE HELP FROM OUR FRIEND HERE. GIVE HIM A HAND!** ” Around them, the demons clapped and whooped. Grunkle Dipper struggled, but his arms were pinned to his side and his legs stayed straight and immobile.

          Stanford peaked through a shattered window and then around the corner of the clocktower.

           “ **THIS GENIUS IS THE ONE WHO BUILT THE PORTAL IN THE FIRST PLACE!** ” Bill grabbed his head and turned the old man around. “ **OH, DON’T LOOK SO SOUR, DIPPER. IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO JOIN ME. WITH THOSE STARS ON YOUR FACE AND THAT BIG HEAD OF YOURS, YOU’D FIT RIGHT IN WITH MY FREAKS.** ” Bill gestured the Grunkle Dipper’s head.

          Grunkle Dipper hesitated and then balled his hands into fists. He roared, “I’ll die before I join you, _Bill!_ I know your weakness!”

          Bill, amused, held up his hands. His eyes turned black and his pupil into a question mark. “ **OH, YEAH? AND I KNOW A RIDDLE. WHY DID THE OLD MAN DO THIS?** ” He held up his arms in front of him with his fingers curled down and straightened out his legs.

          Grunkle Dipper copied him. “This?”

          Bill shot a laser at Grunkle Dipper, turning him to gold.

          Stanford gasped and his six fingers curled into the stone of the melted statue he now hid behind.

          Bill plucked the golden old man from the ground. “ **BECAUSE I NEEDED A NEW BACKSCRATCHER!** ” He and his friends laughed as Bill scratched his back with the petrified body of his former “partner”.

          Stanford glowered at him and snarled. He hopped up onto the melted statue and pulled out Journal Three. “THAT’S ENOUGH!” he yelled. The demons stopped laughing. Bill turned around and looked at him. “Hand over my uncle! _Or else!”_ He held up the journal for Bill to see.

           “ **WELL ISN’T THIS…** ” Bill appeared before Stanford, his white eye glowing like a spotlight over Stanford so bright, the boy had to shield his eyes. Bill’s voice grew deep as he turned around him to get a good look at the boy. “ **-INTERESTING?** ” His voice returned to normal and he stopped directly in front of Stanford, hovering a few feet away. “ **MY OLD PUPPET IS BACK FOR AN ENCORE. YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ME?** ” Bill grew an extra arm and the hand holding Grunkle Dipper tipped him upside down. Bill held up his other hands and waved them a bit. “ **GO AHEAD, SIX-FINGERS, SHOW ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT.** ”

          Stanford stammered and looked through the book. He took out a black light. Scrawled across the page labeled “BILL CIPHER” were the words “IF HE GAINS PHYSICAL FORM, ALL HOPE IS LOST”.

           “ **I, UM, I, UH- DO IT, KID. DO SOME _BRILLIANT_ THING THAT TAKES ME DOWN RIGHT NOW! WHATTDYA GOT, SIX-FINGERS? EVERYONE’S WAITING. _DO IT!_** ” Bill goaded, his voice fast and sharp and dripping with venom.

          Stanford, unable to think through the assault of words, dropped the book and screamed, “ _BILL!_ ” He leaped toward him and struck his eye- or, he tried to. As soon as his fist got within a few inches of Bill’s eye, a forcefield activated and blasted him back. Stanford tumbled into the dirt and rock and brambles. He hit a tree with a heavy wheeze. All three journals spilled out onto the ground before him. He rubbed his head, groaning and swaying.

          Bill’s demon friends laughed at the showy defeat of the prepubescent boy trying to defy their ringleader.

          Stanford flopped onto his belly and reached out for the journals. They levitated out of his grasp and stopped to float by Bill. _One, three, two._ Bill sneered, “ **THAT’S RIGHT, DON’T BE A HERO KID.** ” Bill showed off the perpetually screaming frozen golden body of Stanford’s great uncle. “ **THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO HEROES IN _MY_ WORLD.** ” He pointed the first finger of his free hand up at the journals. They burst into flames. The silver pine trees, unable to light up like the pages and leather cover of the journals, curled up and melted in the intensity of the flame. They fell like shooting stars and threw up cinders upon hitting the ground.

           “NO!” Stanford screamed, his eyes bulging and blood turning cold. “THE JOURNALS!”

          Bill cackled, “ **NOT MUCH OF A THREAT NOW, ARE YOU?** ” The bricks in his body flipped over so that he was facing the crowd of demons. “ **NOW CAN ANYONE REMIND ME WHY WE CAME HERE?** ”

          Eight-Ball threw up his straggly arms. “To get _weird!_ ”

           “ **THAT’S RIGHT!** ” Bill exclaimed. A whale swam through the air in the distance. “ **VIP PARTY AT THE FEARAMID! OH, AND EIGHT-BALL, TEETH, YOU’VE EARNED A TREAT. HAVE THE KID FOR A SNACK.** ” Bill waved his hand in Stanford’s direction.

          Stanford, leaning against the tree with an arm over his hurting chest, looked up. “Huh?”

          Teeth cackled and Eight-Ball rolled his glowing eyes.

          Bill called, “ **HENCH-MANIACS, ROLL OUT!** ” He pointed toward a car. His fingers blazed in blue light as did the car. The blocky, maroon car burst into flames and turned into a chunky, roofless, black race car. A yellow triangle painted on the back and flames painted over the wings on the back. The grill in the front turned into large teeth. A singular, eye-shaped headlight topped the front. The demons, cheering, hopped in with Bill as the driver. Xanthar, as he was larger than the car, hung off the back.

          Pyronica, the pink flaming demon with horns and spikes, yelled, “Let’s get out of here, Bill!”

          Bill, cackling, drove through the sky. Lasers blazed out from the vehicle to the city, changing things or giving life to things as it went.

          Stanford stared at the two remaining demons. Eight-Ball looked down at Teeth, who hardly reached above his ankle. “So, you wanna eat him, or, something?”

          Teeth laughed and bounced on his heels. “Oh, definitely, let’s eat him.”

          Stanford screamed and ran off. His injured body wouldn’t let him go far. So, he ducked behind a few trees to break line of sight and ran around the broken clocktower. He dove into the first hiding place he could find.

          Stanford, shivering, hid under the shadow of a crumbled building. He could see the giant feet of his pursuers on the ground. Their eyes scanned the ruined grass and bushes and trees for their “snack”. Stanford scrambled farther under the wreckage to evade them. He bit his tongue to keep from making a noise as a fractured pipe tore his jacket and pressed down on his side. Glass shards pressed into his hands and legs. Broken concrete threatened to suffocate him.

          Eventually, the two demons grew bored and gave up on their hunt. Still, Stanford waited, terrified, under the wreckage. After ten minutes of not hearing their nightmarish voices, Stanford poked his head out from under his hiding place’s shadow. They were nowhere in sight. Cautiously, he slunk out from under the shadow. He turned on his walkie talkie. “S-Stanley? Can you hear me?” Nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He whimpered. “I don’t care about that apprenticeship anymore. Please answer me. Please, please, please, _please_ answer me. Stanley? Stanley? Where are you? Why aren’t you answering? Stanley?” Stanford, unable to comprehend the chaos around him, shut his eyes tight and contented himself to muttering his brother’s name over and over again. His finger slipped off the button. His walkie talkie was no longer giving out a signal.

          Eventually, he couldn’t continue any longer. Breathless, he stopped his mumbling. He realized, now, as he quieted himself that he had no longer been speaking. All that came out was a wheeze. His throat hurt. His mouth was dry. Stanford sniffled and looked about. Fires popped up somewhere in the distance. The acrid stench of plastic smoke burned his nose and made his eyes water.

          Stanford slunk through the streets. He hid under the shadow of a trashcan as another eyeball bat flew by. A possessed grill slunk through the streets. A raccoon popped out of the trashcan Stanford hid under. He put a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming at the sudden appearance of the creature. He scrambled over a wooden fence and checked the sky. Thankfully, nothing had detected him.

          Stanford kept moving. “Where are you?” he breathed. “Come on, where are you? Where is anyone?” Stanley, Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Dan, Hank, Nicolas, Lee, Nate, Greg, Janice, Toby- anyone! He’d cry tears of joy just to see Janice’s dumb face again! …if he could find any of them, that is. Teens–especially girls–stuck together like herds. It was rare to see a teen alone, especially in an apocalyptic situation. If he found even one teen, they’d lead him to a whole cluster, hopefully. That was, if he could find them in the first place. He’d have to be careful. Scared or rioting teens could turn _anything_ into a weapon. He once saw a girl turn her shoe into a weapon deadly enough to give a full-grown man a black eye and missing tooth, after all.

          He jumped as a demon squid-head-monster stomped through a street nearby. Stanford hopped a fence again to keep from being crushed or seen. He winced as a giant foot got too close to crushing him. He kept moving. He couldn’t stop, now. He had to keep searching.

          _Baaa._

          Stanford jumped and spun around. Gompers bleated again. “Gompers!” Stanford breathed and plucked the baby goat off the street. “You’re okay! What are you doing here? How’d you find me? Is Grauntie Mabel here?” He looked about the streets. He didn’t see her ancient car. He couldn’t see her bright sweater-wearing body, either.

          Gompers made a tired bleating noise and fell asleep.

           “Gosh, you can find me anywhere, huh? If only you could do the same for… any of them.” Stanford gulped and continued walking. He couldn’t cry, not again. He had to find his family and his friends. They were out there somewhere. They were waiting for him.

          Stanford ducked into an empty house as another eyeball bat made a pass over the street. He nearly closed the door when he saw someone outside. He didn’t recognize this fellow. Still, he couldn’t leave him outside. “Hey!” Stanford called as loud as he dared.

          The man spun around and saw him. He put a finger to his mouth and looked about the streets. It was all clear. He started to dart across the street when a bat came to his attention. He screamed and attempted to run back. He was caught in the red glare of the bat’s sight. After being turned to stone, he was levitated away by the eyeball bat.

          Stanford stared at the place where the man once stood. “Oh my gosh.”

 

          Stanford couldn’t stay in that house for long. After raiding it for food, which wasn’t much as any good food had been rendered inedible by the wreckage that possessed furniture brought about, he started off again. He found himself walking through a wooded path along the road. The late sun fell over the busted “Dust-2-Dawn” sign. Stanford hesitated just outside of it. What if Ma and Pa came back? Or, did Stanford put their souls to rest for good? He didn’t feel like doing another degrading dance, but he also didn’t feel like starving or worse.

          Stanford squeezed through the unlocked doors into the chaotic building. Everything was still in shambles. Stanford looked about as he walked. Was there any good food left? He stopped as he stepped on a wrapper. Stanford looked down and lifted his foot. Two yellow dogs smiled up at him from the pink package. The memory of Stanley going into a terrifying episode after consuming too much of the candy and then being possessed came into Stanford’s mind. Stanford had been able to fix the situation by easing the haunted souls. Stanford’s grip on his baby goat tightened. There was no dance that would appease Bill enough to let them all go. It would only make Bill laugh before turning him to stone… or worse.

          Stanford picked over the busted shelves and broken packages. Most of the packages had lost their seal. He didn’t touch anything that had been opened. There was still some bottled water that had to be good. Those twinkie things never expired, right? Stanford grabbed as much as he could carry in his jacket and then more in his hands before sitting down outside of a warm refrigerator. He set Gompers down beside him. Ravenous from lack of food and his long journey, Stanford ate all he could. Gompers bleated blearily. Stanford glanced at his goat. He couldn’t spare any of the only edible substances in the store. Outside, there was vegetation. So, Stanford brought Gompers outside and introduced him to the grass and brush outside. Gompers happily ate. As Gompers ate, Stanford finished off the last of the edible snacks he held.

          Stanford glanced up. It was getting dark. He picked up Gompers, who was now full and content, and went back inside. There wasn’t anything in the way of a bed. In the back room, there were bags and boxes. Stanford curled up in one of the boxes and threw a bag over himself. Gompers lay down in his arms. Stanford stroked the little goat until he was too tired to lift his arm.

 

          _August 15 th, 2012. Day Two._

          Stanford woke up the next morning sore and stiff. Gompers complained and bounced about. The bathrooms didn’t work. However, they still had lids so, though they didn’t flush, any stink left behind was trapped. He brought out anything edible he didn’t find the evening prior and then went outside to eat. Gompers nibbled on the grass as Stanford ate. The boy poured part of his water bottle into a bowl for Gompers and downed the rest of it.

          He brought out his notebook and looked through it. Thankfully, he still had it. He still had all the notes and sketches he made throughout the summer. The journals had been burned, but Stanford’s notebook was just fine. He flipped to the first empty space and wrote down his last few days. A lot had gone on. Stanford would rather not remember any of this trauma once it was over. Still, he’d record it… for some reason. Stanford shook his head. He could imagine his brother complaining over his perfectionist, completionism way of thinking again. He put away his notebook and stuck his pen behind his ear again.

          For a moment, Stanford thought of staying. After all, there didn’t seem to be any eyeball bats around the abandoned, formerly haunted “Dusk-2-Dawn”. Still, there was no one there. Neither he nor Gompers could stay there, not when their family needed them.

          Stanford spoke into his walkie talkie. “Stanford to Stanley, it’s Day Two. I still haven’t found anyone. We just stayed at the old “Dusk-2-Dawn” for the night. Had twinkies for dinner and breakfast. Guess you’d be proud, huh? Heh. I found Gompers last night. Or, well, he found me. I don’t know how he does it, but he can always find me no matter where either of us are. I wish I could find you.” Stanford’s tentative smile was lost. “I will find you. I will find Grauntie Mabel. I’ll find everyone and we’ll find a way to save everyone. We’ll find a way to defeat Bill. I promise.” Stanford let go of the button. There was still no answer.

          He put away his walkie talkie, stood up, and stretched. Gompers stayed by his feet as the two traveled back into town. Stanford kept another two water bottles snuggly hidden in his jacket, by his notebook.

 

          When they got back into the main part of town, Gompers wasn’t bouncing about his feet. The young goat made a tired bleat. Stanford picked him up and kept walking. He felt his arms getting sore. Still, he couldn’t just let Gompers walk tired as he was. He’d fall asleep somewhere or complain loudly until he grabbed the attention of a passing demon. Stanford couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow his only light in the darkness to go out.

 

          Stanford’s gaze flicked about the sky as they walked. As they walked, Stanford got hungry again. He became tired. Stanford set Gompers down and took a swig of the water bottle he carried. Gompers, less tired then before, trailed behind Stanford. As they wandered aimlessly around the town, Stanford had to duck behind broken buildings and hide under overhangs. He clutched Gompers tight to his chest as he did so. Bats often came very close to snatching him. Each time they got near, Stanford would shut his eyes and pray to not be found. He’d wince as the strangled scream of a terrified person would mark the eyeball bat’s new quarry being petrified. The horrible guilt of wishing someone else would be found instead of him gnawed at Stanford. He was supposed to be a hero. Here he was praying someone else would be taken instead of him.

 

          Stanford was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything save for a half dozen twinkies all day. It was noon. Water helped, but not by much. He found himself digging through a dumpster near a restaurant. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of rotting food. Still, there had to be some recently discarded items that weren’t rotten. He did find some… though he was too scared to eat it right away. He had to sneak in and rob the place of food inside before he could bring himself to eat whatever was in _there_. Unfortunately, a lot of what was inside of the restaurants was refrigerable foods that had gone warm or ingredients that needed cooking from an electricity deprived stove.

          He caught himself looking over a beaver that had gotten into the restaurant and was now chewing on the tables. Revolted, Stanford went back to scavenging. Gompers gnawed on discarded cans in the garbage. Eventually, Stanford ate the thawed vegetables in the freezer and warm fruits in the fridge and cupboard and threw parts of his meal to Gompers.

          Unsatisfied but no longer hurting, Stanford led Gompers out of the restaurant and into the harsh reality outside. Stanford’s back started to hurt as he was forced into tight places and positions to avoid capture.

 

          Eventually, hunger that night forced him in a position he never dreamed he’d be in. Stanford pounced on a beaver that had gotten into Greasey’s Diner and strangled it. It squeaked and thrashed and slapped him with his tail. Eventually, the critter’s struggles stopped. Stanford, panting from the work it took to catch and kill the creature, dragged it to the kitchen. Gompers bleated at him. “Sorry, Gompers. You can’t eat meat.” Stanford grabbed a knife from the kitchen and lettuce from the freezer. He chucked the head of lettuce at his baby goat, who very happily ate it.

          Stanford took a deep breath, clutched the knife with more strength, and plunged it into the creature’s neck, just below his chin. Stanford knew how to cook, but he didn’t know how to cook a critter. It was probably the same as cooking a chicken, though, right? He just needed to throw the ingredients into a pan and cook it until it was good enough to eat? He ended up making a fire out of the splinters and disjointed wood the beaver had chewed out of the diner and cooked it in a pot of water until the meat fell off the bones.

          If anything came from the end of Weirdmaggedon, Stanford would be glad to never kill, cook, eat, or otherwise mess with a beaver ever again. Still, for the first time in days, he was full and content- almost to the point where his stomach hurt.

          Stanford made the windowless backroom of the diner their bed for the night. He heard raccoons scrambling about the diner as they ate the rest of the beaver.

 

          _August 16 th, 2012; Day Three_

          In a discarded TV amongst the wreckage, News Reporter Shandra Jimenez spoke. “We are Day Three in this strange cataclysmic event, which some are calling “Weirdmageddon” or the “Oddpocalypse”. Weather today calls for black clouds, blood rain, and frequent showers of eyeball bats turning people into stone. I’m Shandra Jimenez, and I ate a rat for dinner.”

          Stanford, Gompers in his grasp, hid under a few bags of trash. He didn’t even flinch at the screams pizza-shirt-guy made as an eyeball bat turned him to stone. Stanford looked about and darted to an alley. An eyeball bat immediately turned and flew in his direction. Stanford hopped up, chucked Gompers onto a trashcan on the other side, and then scrambled over the fence. Gompers landed on his lap. The eyeball bat quickly abandoned his search in favor of a new trail. Graffiti ran rampant throughout the town, most of them being crossed out triangles or eyes or end of the world messages or cries for help. Stanford ignored them.

          Stanford clutched the walkie talkie. “Stanley, it’s me. I’ve been able to elude capture so far, but I haven’t been able to find you or Mabel anywhere. Wherever you are, whatever happens, I _will_ find you though, okay? I’m going to find you and I’m going to find everyone and we’re all going to defeat Bill. Together.” He put away his walkie talkie and looked at Gompers. “I’ve been searching for days, Gompers. Where are they?”

          He turned to look into the street on the other side of the alleyway. He gasped as a pterodactyl screeched and snatched the ‘A’ from the Gravity Mall’s sign. “The mall,” Stanford breathed. “That’s where they are! I know it!” He picked up Gompers and slunk forward. A giant head with an arm dragged itself through the street. Stanford ducked under a trashcan until it passed. Then, he darted across the street. He hit the mall doors with a hard _thump._ “Oh no!” he hissed and set a hand on the doors. The mall, out of electricity, probably couldn’t handle opening or closing its own doors.

           “Hey!” Stanford turned to look at the head with an arm. “Hey, you. Hey, I wanna talk to you.” The head turned himself around with his arm. “I wanna talk to you about going inside my mouth. I think you want to get in here.” He gripped the pavement and moved himself toward the mall. “Hey, you, hey! I’m talkin’ to you, man!” Stanford gasped and dropped Gompers. He struggled to pry open the door to the mall. “You don’t have to make a big deal outta this!” Stanford managed to get it open a crack. He stuck Gompers through and then attempted to squeeze through himself. He was able to get most of his body through, though his ankle got caught in the doors. Stanford’s heart pounded at a million miles an hour. “Hello! HELLO!” The monster slapped the door. Stanford, free, stumbled inside and grabbed Gompers by the scruff to move him forward. The monster stuck his arm through the door and patted the ground. “Why are you just ignoring me? That’s seriously rude to just _ignore_ someone like this.”

          Stanford backed away. Once he was a safe distance back, he looked about the broken mall. “Mabel! Stanley!” he called as he walked. Gompers bleated. Stanford hesitated outside of the food court. A bowl of nachos sat under a flickering light. Stanford abandoned his mission in lieu of finding the first meal of the day. Stanford gulped and walked inside. “At least maybe I can get something to eat.” He took the nachos and then howled as a net tore him off the ground. He screamed. “HELP! The nachos were a trap!”

           “Ford?” Dan poked his head out of a plant nearby.

          Stanford sucked in his breath. “Dan?! Oh no! You’ve been turned into a tree monster!”

           “No, man. It’s just camouflage. My mom made us do apocalypse training instead of Christmas every year. I guess her paranoia paid off.” He stepped out of the potted plant and took off his leafy hat. Like Stanford, his clothes were torn and had holes in them. A flannel headband wrapped around his head and paint brushed his cheeks to aid in his camouflage. A quiver fell over his shoulders and a crossbow was in his hand. A bat flew overhead. No sooner had it squeaked then Dan shot it down. “Heh. Bat meat.” He took out his ax. “Let me get that for you.” He chucked it. The blade snapped through the net and caused Stanford to fall.

          Stanford landed in a stumble and launched himself at Dan. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy I found you!” He squeezed shut his eyes. “I thought everyone I knew was gone…”

           “Hey, hey.” Dan put a hand on Stanford’s head and knelt. “It’s okay. We have each other now. And Thompson Determined, who I accidently thought was a monster.” He jerked his head at the portly man behind her.

          Thompson Determined had a hand on his shoulder, where an arrow sprouted out of it. “This just in:” the tattered reporter wheezed. “-this arrow in my shoulder!”

          Dan turned back to Stanford. “We shouldn’t stay out in the open. Come on. I’ll show you our hiding place.” He stood up and took Stanford by the hand. Gompers bleated wearily and followed them. “Gompers?”

           “He found me,” Stanford explained. “After… a few hours after Bill took over, he found me. Gompers could always find me, no matter how separated we are.”

           “Are you sure that goat isn’t a magical beast or something?” Dan prompted, a slight smile on his worn, dirty features.

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s not magical.”

 

          He led them to the “Edgy on Purpose” store. The shutters, which had the words “DUDE KEEP OUT” spray-painted green, were closed. Dan lifted them just high enough for them to slip in. An eyeball bat flew past them.

          Stanford grabbed a candy bar as they walked inside. Everything had been pushed to the sides. “FORT CASH MONEY” was spray painted on the far wall. A trash barrel whose contents were on fire were in the middle. Dan held the skewered bat over the flames. “We were playing Truth or Dare in the cemetery when it happened. The eyeballs froze Nate, Lee, Greg, and Toby.” He pressed a button on the cash register he sat on and patted his forehead with a bill. “Janice almost got away, but stopped to take a selfie.” He let the bill fall. “What about you?”

          Stanford’s gaze fell to his lap. “I was in a fight with Stanley when it happened. Grunkle Dipper asked me to be his apprentice once summer was over. But that would mean leaving home- leaving Stanley. We wouldn’t grow up together.”

           “Oh, man,” Dan breathed.

          Stanford sighed. “Stanley didn’t take it well. He ran off into the forest. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes.” Gompers made a sad bleat and nibbled on his torn sock. Stanford didn’t pat him on the head.

          Dan set down the skewered bat. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air. Thompson: watch the camp for us.”

          Thompson Determined drew back the curtain he was behind. He was now donned in spikes, edgy clothes, a thick belt, and now sported a spiked hairstyle. “Don’t call me Thompson. Call me Bodacious T!”

          Dan gave him a flat look. “No one is ever going to call you that.”

           “Oh.” Thompson lowered his head with a sad groan.

 

          Outside, Dan and Stanford sat on an air conditioning unit. Both of them had soda cans in their hands. Outside, the world was chaos. Giant monsters roamed the streets. A floating ear traversed across the landscape. Eyeball bats screeched and patrolled the town and forest. Video game characters flew and ran about. A purple monster with arms for tusks wandered the streets. Animated formerly inanimate objects stalked the town and forest. The green, orange-cloud sky set a horrible glow over everything. The purple ‘X’ shaped tear in the sky vomited nightmares. The center of the show was a giant, burnt brown pyramid floating in the sky. It’s top part floated above it. Debris hung in the air around it. Eyeball bats would fly to and from it.

          Stanford took a much-needed drink from the soda. Dan sighed. “The end of the world. Those death metal album covers got it shockingly right.”

          Stanford looked over the chaos that was once his summer home. “I used to think I could get out of anything, but this?” He hopped off the air conditioning unit and paced. “The journals are destroyed, Dipper is captured, and I can’t find my family anywhere.” He stopped and stared at the Fearamid. Dan got up and stood beside him. “Bill said it himself. There’s no room for heroes out here. We lost.”

          Dan, a hard look in his gaze, shook his head. “No, man. It’s _not_ over. You’ve beaten Bill twice before. Why is this time any different?”

           “Because I had Stanley.”

          Dan put his hands on Stanford’s shoulders and made sure that Stanford looked him in the eyes. “Then you need to get Lee back. Look, this summer, I’ve seen some amazing things but _nothing_ as amazing as you and your brother.” Dan let go of him. “I don’t know if it’s dumb luck or yin and yang or whatever, but when you two work together, there’s _nothing_ you two can’t do.” Dan smiled. Stanford smiled back. “You need to make up, team up, and then save the universe!” Dan hit his fists together with a fierce nod.

           “But how will I ever find him?” Stanford prompted. They jumped as the purple arm-tooth monster roared, ripped a billboard straight out of the ground, and swallowed it. This cleared the way and gave them a perfect line of sight to the old railroad tracks. Floating before it, chained and anchored to the ruined ground below, was a light red bubble. Fissures and cracks like stained glass covered the ball. But one symbol was clearly shown: The Holy Mackerel. “The mackerel from Stanley’s shirt! He’s in there, I know it!”

           “Whoa! Is that like twin ESP?” Dan chuckled.

          Stanford shook his head. “No, we don’t have that. But we do have this thing where our allergies act up at the same time.” Stanford sneezed. Thankfully, though Dan smiled, he didn’t comment on how kitten-like he sounded. “Stanley needs us. But how are we going to get out there without being caught?” Stanford looked over the city of eyeball bats. In the distance, a minefield of madness bubbles floated over the rough ground.

           “I think I have an idea.” Dan looked down at the abandoned auto-mart. Multiple broken vehicles lay in its waste, though they could see a few whose windows hadn’t been crushed and tires broken.

 

          In the Fearamid, music blared, lights blazed, and demons of all shades of power and type partied. Many held red cups full of glowing green juice. A cluster of demons chanted, “Spin the person! Spin the person!” as “Lazy” Susan, as a statue, was spun like a bottle. She ended up stopping so that her head was pointed at the space between Pyronica and Hectogoron. Hectogoron, the floating red hexagon, gasped and attempted to fly away. The pink fiery demon with long, curling horns, Pyronica, snapped her tongue like a frog to catch him and then swallowed him whole.

          Bill, eye shut and arms crossed behind his head, floated on a plateau near the head of the place. “ **HAHA! GO NUTS, GUYS! WHEN WE’RE DONE PARTYING, I UNVEIL PHASE TWO!** ”

          At the far end of the room, they could hear heavy knocking. Lolph announced, “Open up! This is the police. Time Police.”

          Everyone stopped and, eyes wide and most mouths gaping, turned to Bill, who was no longer relaxed. Bill waved his hands in a calming manner. “ **JUST PLAY IT COOL, DITCH THE TIME PUNCH.** ” Paci-fire ran off with a cup of green juice. “ **LET ME DO THE TALKING.** ”

          The wall exploded to show a triangle-shaped doorway of sorts. Time Baby, a whole mess of time police flocking him, floated above the rubble.

          Lolph, the front-most officer, stated, “Bill Cipher. You are in violation of the rules of space time, and possessing the body of a time officer.”

          Blendin, who stood right next to him, snapped, “My body is a temple! How dare you!”

          Time Baby announced, “Hear this, Cipher.”

          Bill Cipher rolled his eye and put his hands on his sides. “ **UGH. TIME BABY.** ”

          Time baby put his hands on his head. The hourglass on his head glowed and projected a hologram of the universe with a line through it. “If your rip in this dimension continues,” the hologram exploded. “-it could destroy the very fabric of existence.” The hologram fizzled away and Time Baby lowered his pudgy hands. “Surrender now or face my tantrum.”

           “ **OH NO, A TANTRUM,** ” Bill Cipher sighed and waved his hands in a melodramatic manner. “ **WHAT EVER WILL I DO ABOUT THAT- _HOW ’BOUT THIS?! BOOM!_** ” He pointed his finger at Time Baby. It sparked and glowed in red light before turning into a laser. The crowd was vaporized. Bill Cipher’s eye turned into a mouth, blew the smoke off his finger, and then returned to its normal shape. He leaned back and stared at the scene ahead with a wide eye.

          The gathered demons gasped. At first, none could speak. Then, Kryptos put a hand to the top of his steely gray diamond body. “Ah, snap! He just killed Time Baby!” He looked about. Then, the demons cheered and danced in their approval.

          Blendin hid behind a pillar. “Aw, man. This has gone from bad to worse.” He fiddled with his wrist device. “I gotta get out of time-dodge.” He vanished in a spark of blue light.

          8-Ball, the chained goblin taller than the Mystery Shack, lumbered over to Bill, a pair of walking dentures beside him. He looked up at Bill, though with his weird wall-eyed 8-ball eyes, it was difficult to tell where he was looking. “Boss, the Six-Fingers kid got away before we could eat him. Are you worried he might try to cause some trouble?”

          Teeth, his higher voice a sharp contrast to 8-Ball’s deep, slow voice, piped up, “Yeah! Trouble with Stanley’s bubble?”

          Bill laughed. “ **HA! I’M NOT WORRIED. I’VE GOT SOMEONE ON THE CASE.** ”

 

          Dan, Stanford, and Thompson looked over the cracked picket fence to the auto-mart. Dan, who wielded a pair of binoculars, lowered the instrument. “The abandoned auto-mart. Free cars ripe for the hot-wiring.” Dan jumped the fence, leading the others to follow. Stanford had to hand Gompers over to Dan on the other side before hopping up. “We just found our ride to Stanley.” Stanford glanced back at graffiti on the wall, which red “BUD STINKS” in white, though pink spray-paint crossed out the second word and replaced it with “is awesome”.

          They ran through the parking lot of destruction. Dan looked about. “We’ll need something fast, but good over rough terrain.”

          Stanford’s gaze fell over the broken cars. “I can’t believe that this place is just… abandoned.”

          Thompson stopped by a particularly wrecked car that still had an air freshener. “Oh! An air freshener! I’ll finally smell like a person!” Thompson gasped and them reached for it. “Stealy, stealy…” A yellow dart with a pink tufted tail struck him in the side of the head. Thompson fell forward and then jumped up, chest puffed out and arms raised at his sides. “Ahh! It’s gunna take more than one dart to keep me from-” Another nine darts struck him in different parts of the head. Thompson promptly collapsed.

          Dan gasped, “Thomas! Or was it Thompson?”

          They winced as bright headlights glared at them. A couple more pairs of headlights blazed and sent them further into a blinding spotlight. Gompers hid behind Stanford, who tried his best to make himself look big in the face of three monster trucks.

          A gangly, wiry-haired prisoner leaned on the roofless windshield of his car and sneered, his voice oddly high-pitched, “Well, well, looks like we got ourselves a pair of ground walkers!”

          The second prisoner, this time in a greenish brown truck, leaned out of his window and cackled, “Yeah! Ground walkers! Heheh! Ain’t got no wheels!”

           “Listen, Discount Auto Warriors!” Dan announced.

          Stanford continued, “We have no quarrel with you! We’re trying to get to the bubble out east!”

          A loud, deep voice boomed, “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong! Hands where I can see ’em!” They turned to see the center monster truck, red and flashy with all types of illegal modifications. A large, muscular man sat atop it like a throne and pointed at them. Dan and Stanford raised their hands in submission. “Y’all fellers ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

           “Y’all?” Dan echoed.

           “Fellers?” Stanford agreed. He squinted at the very bright headlights. He couldn’t distinguish the figure, but he knew how he spoke. “Bud?”

           “That’s _Sheriff_ Bud!” The megaphone was lowered. Lights sparked and glowed over Bud, who was sitting on the shoulders of a very large, muscular man. Bud’s outfit had… changed. White and blue, it was a cowboy’s attire with gold feathering on the arms and legs. His curled hat glowed like the moon. “Under the authority of Bill Cipher, I place you two under arrest!” His gaze fell to Dan. “Oh! Hey, Dan. Have we formally met?”

          The headlights dimmed to nonexistence. A good dozen prisoners, all wearing spiked armor and many wielding makeshift spears, hopped out of the trucks and guided Dan and Stanford around to the back of the biggest truck. Gompers hid under the shadow of a broken tire. Bud stood on a crate in the trunk of the truck. Ghost-Eyes, the man whom held him, stood just outside of the vehicle. Two prisoners behind them shoved Dan and Stanford so that they fell forward. They could only get up to their knees before spears were pointed at the back of their necks. They both glared up at Bud.

          Bud whooped, “Wooooo-we! Look at what the ’pocalypse dragged in! Y’all are in a twelve-piece bucket of deep fried trouble, now! Ghost-Eyes! Spitoon!” Ghost-Eyes held up a fancy spittoon, which Bud spat out his gum in.

          Stanford scoffed, “Ugh. Bud.”

           “He’s gotten folksier,” Dan commented.

          Bud, his smug expression never wavering, put his hands on his hips. “Ma’ old pal Bill figured you might try to rescue Stanley. So, he appointed me,” Bud pointed to himself, “-master of these wastelands, and,” he put a hand on his neck and gestured to the scarlet, chained bubble in the east. “-keeper of the bubble! My Stanley is trapped inside,” He turned back to them and pulled out a golden key bearing the symbol of the Holy Mackerel on its handle. “-and I have the only key! Wrapped around my…” He looked down. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a neck, really, just wrapped around this little pocket a fat under ma’ head?”

          Stanford bristled. “You have no right to keep him there, Bud!”

          Bud smirked, still holding the key. “Bill explained it to me nice and simple: he was always destined to be with me.” He let go of the key, which fell over his chest, and took out a newspaper clipping of him and Stanley running down the street. “And now that I have him in a cage, he’ll learn to like me! I have an eternity to wait!” Bud put away the piece of paper. Stanford’s glower deepened. Oh, how we wanted to ring that fat gopher’s neck. “Ghost-Eyes! Ready to escort our friends to Bill’s dungeon?”

          Ghost-Eyes plucked Stanford off the ground by the nape of his jacket and tore Dan up by the back of his neck. As he was unable to hold the lumberjack’s son, he kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt. Stanford yelled and held onto Ghost-Eye’s hand. “No! Hey!”

          Dan glared back at Bud. “This won’t work, Bud.”

          Bud chortled, “Oh? And why’s that?”

           “’Cause after I break Ghost-Eye’s arm and steal that key from around your neck, I’m gunna wear your hide on my foot like a steel-toed boot!”

          The other prisoners laughed. Bud snickered, “O-ho! What makes you think you can do all that?”

          Dan snarled, “’Cause I’m a flippin’ _Corduroy!_ ” He took Ghost-Eye’s arm in his hands and flipped himself over. Ghost-Eyes roared in pain and dropped them both. Stanford knelt in front of Ghost-Eyes as soon as Dan let go to trip him.

           “Ghost-Eyes! My hench-angel!” Bud gasped. Dan hopped onto the car, tore Bud up into the air by his collar and ripped the key out from around his neck. Stanford stopped by Dan as Dan jumped off the truck, Bud still in his grasp. Stanford held out his hands. Gompers darted out from under the tire and jumped into Stanford’s arms.

          The prisoners attempted to approach them, but Dan held Bud out as if he was presenting a first-place wrestling trophy. “Get back! Get back or I _swear_ I’ll drop-kick him!” The prisoners halted and held out their hands to stop anyone else from moving forward. Dan ran around to an armored and spiked black and white car with anti-Bill graffiti. He smashed open the passenger’s side window with his elbow and unlocked it.

          Bud glared back at him. “You’ll never get away with this, ya hear me?!”

          Dan opened the door and looked at him. “Well guess we? We already _did!_ ” He took Bud by the shoulders and drop-kicked him into the crowd of prisoners. Ghost-Eyes stumbled back and knocked over a few prisoners. Those still on their feet stared at them in absolute shock.

          Dan squirmed into the driver’s seat through the passenger’s side and hotwired the car. Stanford shut and locked the door and put his seatbelt on. Gompers stayed securely in his lap. Stanford watched Dan mess with the wires in the car. “Dan, you’re the coolest person I know.”

           “Tell me about it later.” Dan threw a smug smirk at him and put on his seatbelt. The car started with a snarl and raced off. Spikes bristled out of the sides of the tires and gleamed on the metal plating of the car.

          Bud screamed, “After them!” The prisoners scrambled to get into their vehicles, ranging in size from monster trucks to small, decked out two-doors down to a motorbike. Ghost-Eyes carried Bud to their heavily modified and armored monster truck, which came with a cow catcher in the front like a train. “You want your baby seat?”

           “Yes, please.” Ghost-Eyes buckled Bud into the car seat in the passenger’s side and started the engine with a roar. Bud turned on his megaphone. “We are not letting ’em get to Stanley! Auto-Mart Warriors, roll out!” The trucks and cars screeched into the road and tore after the stolen black-and-white car.

          Stanford looked down at the key he held. “Okay, all we need to do is outrace Bud’s henchmen, unlock the bubble, save Stanley, and then save the world.”

           “Arm!” Dan cried and swerved as a beefy hand from the arm-head monster swiped at them. Their pursuers managed to avoid him, too- all but one unfortunate soul who was promptly eaten.

           “Swerve, swerve!” Bud cried. “I can’t let ’em free Stanley!”

          Ghost-Eyes evaded the monster. “Remind me why you’re keeping your best friend in a prison bubble again? Have we, the prisoners, become the wardens?”

           “He likes me! He just doesn’t know it yet,” Bud countered. “Now quit the philosophy.”

           “Sorry, it was my major.”

          Ahead of them, the cars broke through city limits, only to find themselves face-to-face with a broken wasteland of multicolored, tie-dye bubbles. “Ha!” Bud laughed. “Weirdness bubbles blockin’ the path! Whooooo-we! We got ’em now!”

          Stanford hugged Gompers tight. “Oh no! Move around the bubble field!”

           “No can-do! Hold on! We’re goin’ through!” Dan announced, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

           “Wh-what’s even in there?!”

           “I dunno!”

          They screamed as they charge head-first into an aquamarine bubble swirling with a soapy rainbow sheen.

          Then, everything was different.

          Within the car, the two boys’ heads had been replaced by finch heads. Gompers had turned into a caterpillar. Stanford whistled and chirped. _“For some reason, I really want worms.”_

          _“Eat worms!”_ Dan whistled. _“Fly south! Nest!”_

          The car broke through the bubble and charged across the wasteland. Stanford coughed up a few feathers. “That was _horrible!_ ”

           “Brace yourself! Here comes another!” Dan warned. The car burst through three more colorful, giant bubbles.

          First, their appearances changed to a cartoony, almost anime-style. They, including Gompers, screamed. The second bubble turned them all into meat products. The third changed them into very oddly detailed versions of themselves.

          Gompers bleated. Stanford looked down at himself and gasped. “Ah! I have so many details! Dan, I’m a monster!”

          Dan looked at himself in the rear-view mirror and shrugged. “I don’t know, man, I look good.” They came to the end and screamed as the car burst out into the wasteland again. Stanford looked back in the rearview mirror. The other cars were having their troubles bursting through bubbles and skidding on the ground.

          Ghost-Eyes’ truck became level with Dan’s. The bigger, meaner truck turned and slammed its body into Dan’s. Dan barked in surprise as his side of the car crumpled and the window shattered, sending glass shards flying over him.

          Stanford gasped and pointed ahead at a ravine. “We’re almost there! We just need to make that jump!”

          Dan set his gaze and glared ahead. “Total lack of formal training, don’t fail me now!” He grabbed the clutch, raised both feet, and slammed them into the accelerator. He swerved as Ghost-Eye’s truck turned and attempted to slam into them. Ghost-Eye’s truck swerved and slowed as it changed direction, which allowed Dan to pull ahead. Stanford turned around and buckled Gompers into the back seat. The car, screeching under the strain and pressure, flew off the side of the ravine, which was turned up like a ramp. They screamed as the car flew up and then came crashing down. It’s armored pieces, the spikes being the greatest ones, refused to dent. The car rolled end-over-end and flipped as it skidded across the other side of the ravine. The car crumpled like a tin can.

          By the time the car had groaned to a stop, Dan was laying semi-conscious over the driver’s wheel. Stanford pushed open his door and fell out into the dirt in a heap of torn clothes and bruised flesh and bones. Stanford turned his gaze to the giant red bubble phasing into the train tracks. _Stanley._ Stanford heaved himself up onto his elbows and crawled toward the bubble. “Almost… there…” he wheezed. “Hold on…!”

          Stanford stopped as a shadow fell over him. He looked up. A maroon cloak stood above him. The hood was so far low that he could see the “Blind Eye” symbol on the hood’s front. Behind him was a black, three-headed mastiff. Its red eyes glowed but it stayed still. The figure pulled up his hood and offered his hand. “Hey, Ford.”

           “Fidds!” Stanford gasped and took his hand. Gompers plopped down beside Stanford.

          Dan, bruised and cut, heaved himself out of the car. “Fiddleford? You’re alive!”

          Fiddleford puffed out his chest and grinned. “Handyman of the apocalypse at your service!”

           “Fidds, where’d you-? How’d you-?” Stanford stuttered.

          Fiddleford ran around to Dan’s side and helped him up. “After my grandpa was taken, I was all alone. I’ve been looking for you guys, but after the first day, I packed my stuff and came here. I’ve been helping people all the while.” He looked over Dan’s bruised left arm. “Well, there’s some good news: your arm isn’t broken.”

           “The bad news?” Stanford prompted.

           “We’re surrounded.”

          All around them, the remaining prisoners and their vehicles stopped in a circle. “Wooo-we!” Bud yelled as he stood on the front of the truck. “I dare say y’all almost had the jump on me there, for a second. But this ain’t your Gravity Falls anymore!” He clapped his hands. “Out here, I win.” Someone threw a conch at him. Bud took a deep breath and blew on it as hard as he could. “Bill’s henchbats will be here any minute. Stanley’s mine now!”

          They turned to see the Fearamid grow blurry as a cloud of bats burst out of it like a halo.

          Stanford looked down at the key clutched in his hand. He closed his fingers around the key and looked up. “Is he?”

          Bud nodded. “Well, yeah. I have him trapped, ergo, Stanley is _mine!_ ”

           “Bud, listen to me.” Stanford took a few steps forward. Dan’s legs shook and he collapsed beside the car. Fiddleford put a hand on the fallen survivor’s left shoulder. Something glinted in his right hand in his sleeve. “You can’t make someone like you, no matter how much you try. The best you can do is be someone worthy of admiring.”

           “I’m worthy of lovin’!” Bud countered. “These prisoners love me!” The prisoners around him cheered.

           “But Stanley doesn’t,” Stanford stated. “Because you’re selfish. _But!_ You can change! Bill thinks that there are no heroes in this world. But if we work together and fight back, we can defeat him!” The prisoners slowly nodded. Stanford pointed to the Fearamid. “You want to be Stanley’s hero? Stand up to Bill! Let us save him!”

           “That’s crazy!” Bud burst out. “You know what Bill’d do to me if that happens?!”

          Ghost-Eyes turned to Bud. “What, you scared of Bill?”

          Bud’s voice gained a slightly higher pitch. “No! I just… It’s a complicated situation.”

          Stanford put a hand on his own chest. “Look inside yourself, Bud.” He waved his hands to indicate the broken world around them. “If all this is for Stanley,” Stanford held up the key. “-then ask yourself what Stanley would want you to do.”

          Bud turned around and took out a newspaper clipping. He and Stanley laughed, running side-by-side. He stared down at the picture. His fingers slowly curled together. Bud turned his head in the slightest. His voice was hardly above a squeaky whisper. “Ford. Will you tell him what I did?”

          Stanford nodded. “Of course.”

          Bud turned around. The paper crumpled in his grasp. “I hope you’re right about this.” He raised his voice and put away the picture. He pointed to the cloud of bats. “Guys, new plan: Bill’s minions are gunna be on us in seconds!” He curled his hands into fists and lowered them to his side. “But I’m not gunna let that dumb triangle be the warden o’ me!” Bud opened one hand and slammed his fist into it. His signature devilish grin reappeared. “Are y’all ready for a good ol’ fashion prison brawl?”

          Ghost-Eyes gripped a chain in both hands and snapped it so that it was taut. “We’re behind you for life, brother!”

           “Fighting children is boring,” another prisoner agreed. “-but fighting a chaos god sounds fun!”

          Bud yelled and raised his fist, “Let’s do this!” They cheered and jumped into their vehicles. “HENCHMEN, ROLLOUT!” The prisoners cheered and whooped as they raced to the eye-bats.

          Fiddleford sighed and released whatever he’d been holding in his right hand. “Oh, good. I thought we were gunna have ta fight.”

          Stanford grinned and then looked at the machine behind him. “So, what is that?”

          Fiddleford glanced at the dog. “Oh, Biscuit’s just a bully-eating robot Ah built as a Christmas present ta myself. We can ride her up ta the bubble.”

 

          The three boys and Gompers now stood on the railroad tracks in front of Stanley’s bubble. A giant triangle-shaped lock amidst the chains faced them. Stanford gripped the key with more strength. “Remember: this is a prison bubble designed by Bill. We’ve got to prepare ourselves for what we find in here.” God, what if it’s like the madness bubbles? Spending a few seconds in one was bad enough but three days? _I hope Stanley’s alright._ Stanford pushed away negative thoughts tagged to overwhelming fear in his theories.

           “Whatever we do, we do together! For Stanley!” Fiddleford held is hand out in the middle of them.

          Dan put his hand on his. “For Stanley!”

          Stanford put his hand on Dan’s. “For Stanley!” With that, Stanford took a few steps forward and plunged the golden key into its socket. With a turn of his wrist, he let go of the key. Metal clinked against metal. The chains shuttered and then fell away. The scarlet, stained-glass bubble with the mackerel symbol staining its front now stood open to them. Stanford took Fiddleford and Dan’s hands. Then, they stepped inside.

 

N **I** OYFAD FOTPLTPPO, DWHLSLTNF ZPHBZOPE, JCL **W** MCJ QCYTTP **P** O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who I have to write for the last few chapters! Ugh, I hate Bill. He's a fifteen-year-old brat with the power of a demon-god and the status of a god. Writing him takes some creativity, though- which is fun. And his dialogue is _bill_ very unique. I haven't had to format dialogue like this since Papyrus from "Fallen Under"! I also FINALLY get write in Biscuit! Also, from Night 1 to Morning 3 was completely skipped over by the show, which I don't blame them for because of time restrictions. BUT LOOK AT WHO DOESN'T HAVE A WORD LIMIT! Remember: It's here in the darkest night _vigenère_ that our little candle flames can truly be seen.  
>  For anyone who cares, I drew Biscuit and her future brother, Gravy: http://fav.me/dbihz5t
> 
> Prepare for absurdly long chapters, by the way. This gal has no word limit. /I feel like Galaxy Ford right now someone stop me/ http://images-cdn.moviepilot.com/images/c_limit,h_929,w_1680/t_mp_quality/v3xvhahmjikotttoky3b/new-gravity-falls-trailer-hints-that-stanford-may-betray-the-pines-in-s02e20-stanford-s-806731.jpg


	15. Weirdmaggedon Part Two: Escape From Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill has taken over. Gravity Falls has been plunged into a horrible nightmare. Stanley is locked away in a prison bubble. Can Stanford rescue his brother in time or do the chains of Bill's prison hang on too tight to let go...?

          _August 17 th, 2012; Day Four._

         

          The creeping sun hardly did anything to the ruined landscape. The golden clouds above seemed to have a mystic glow of their own. The green, white-speckled sky behind the golden clouds shimmered like a mirror reflecting the universe flush with a plankton choked pool. The giant psychedelic ‘X’ tear in the sky sent a pink-purple glow over the burnt amber pyramid that hovered in the sky.

          On the ruined ground below, creatures and nightmares prowled the streets. A land once riddled with birdsong and traffic shrieked with the voices of the damned and boomed with the roars of otherworldly beings. Formerly inanimate objects crawled and slunk over the broken ground. A mailbox opened and lashed a frog tongue at a squirrel nearby. The critter hardly made a squeak before being swallowed by the mailbox.

           “End times are here, folks,” Sprott’s voice called over the chaos. Over his natural farmer’s attire, two pieces of carboard tied together by string were thrown over his shoulders to cover his body from shoulder to ankle on his front and back. A box with a red circle and line through it sketched on the cardboard. Gripped in his hands was a cardboard, upside down triangle on a stick bolding stating “THE END IS NIGH”. His eye twitched. “Only way to salvation is to embrace the triangular ways of our overlord. Any object with more than three sides is sinful.” He looked over his shoulder at “Tough Girl” Wendy. In the process, his tin-foil, cone hat shifted and glinted. “Tough Girl” Wendy cut out a stop sign so that it was a red triangle. “That’s it. That’s probably what Bill wants.” An Eye-Bat swooped down and froze “Tough Girl” Wendy. “I reckon I’ve been livin’ a lie.” He screamed as another turned him to stone and flew off.

 

          In the Fearamid, the party was still in full swing. Bill held Dipper in one hand and a fork in the other. He tapped Dipper’s golden arm, causing a ring to pass over the crowd. The interdimensional demons and nightmares stopped and looked up at their host. “ **LADIES, GENTLEMEN, THAT CREATURE WITH, LIKE, EIGHTY-SEVEN DIFFERENT FACES,** ” Bill began.

          A flying amalgamation of faces and heads barked, “Eighty- _eight_ different faces!”

          Bill held up a hand. “ **WHOA-HO, SORRY- TOUCHY SUBJECT. ANYWAYS, IT’S BEEN FUN TURNING GRAVITY FALLS INSIDE OUT, ROUNDING UP ALL ITS TERRIFIED CITIZENS, AND THEN STACKING THEM INTO THIS MASSIVE THRONE OF FROZEN HUMAN AGONY.** ” He waved his fork and then gestured to the giant throne of stone figures. An Eye-Bat stuck Sprott in an indention in the side of the throne. Bill discarded his fork, set Grunkle Dipper down, and plopped down onto his throne. “ **DON’T WORRY, THEY’RE NOT CONSCIOUS ANYMORE. PROBABLY.** ”

          Near his head, “Lazy” Susan’s head fell forward as she unfroze. She muttered, her words slurred as if in a dream. “Uh, my omelets. They- they have friendly faces.”

           “ **WHOOPS! HEHE, BACK, BACK YOU GO THERE.** ” Bill pushed her back into place. She turned to stone. He turned back to the massive group. “ **BUT GRAVITY FALLS IS JUST THE BEGINNING. IT’S TIME TO TAKE OUR CHAOS _WORLDWIDE!_** ” He hopped up and threw his arms in the air. His eye expanded until it took up most of his yellow body, turned red, and showed a white outline of the spinning earth and its continents with a few speckled stars. He blinked, turning his eye back into an eye, and floated up until he nearly touched the ceiling. He snapped his fingers and summoned a portal to the outside of the Fearamid. “ **ALRIGHT, BOYS, TO THE CORNERS OF THE EARTH. SET THE WORLD AFLAME WITH YOUR WEIRDNESS! THIS DIMENSION IS _OURS!_** ” The demons flew out of the Fearamid and into the sky. Bill sighed. “ **AH GLOBAL DOMINATION. I COULD GET USED TO-** ” The demons hit an invisible barrier. Ripples flew over the sky as if they’d touched a pond. The monsters dropped like flies. Bill spun around. “ ** _WHAT?!_** ” He flew up and tapped the barrier. Ripples went through the sky. Outside, the world was fine. Birds sang, animals bounded about. The fluffy white clouds scooted through the atmosphere. The sun glowed over the summer, perfectly ordinary landscape. An orange, green, and pink bubble of chaos enveloped the territory Gravity Falls was in.

          Bill narrowed his eye. “ **HMM… THIS MIGHT BE MORE COMPLICATED THAN I THOUGHT.** ”

          Paci-fire groaned, “I think I broke something.”

          Bill glared back at him. “ **WALK IT OFF!** ”

*          *          *          *          *

          Within the prison bubble, Stanford, Fiddleford, and Dan stalked through complete and total white. Everything was white and plain and _empty._ There was no sky, no ground, no walls- not one object cluttered the space. No single light source threw their shadows. The battered group were in a white, noiseless void.

          Dan, clutching his ax, stayed light on his feet and looked about. Fiddleford, now holding a remote control, walked backwards. His gaze flicked around the void. Stanford clutched Gompers and stared straight ahead. “Okay, so, Stanley has to be around here _somewhere._ We just need to find him, save him, and get out of here. Bill’s planning on taking over the world. He could be gone any second!”

           “There’s nothing here,” Dan pointed out.

          Fiddleford yelled, “STANLEY! Stanley! St- ahh!” Fiddleford yelped and took a step back. They looked down. Cracks spread through the ground under them. Stanford’s foot sunk down. Pieces of white flecked and defected, now falling into a sea of aquamarine and baby blue. There was probably some white-yellow at one edge, but Stanford wasn’t paying attention to that.

           “Run!” Stanford yelled. He attempted to move, but his feet sunk through. The sound of shattering glass tore through his ears. Yet, even as the white shards scraped past him, Stanford couldn’t feel them. It was as if the “floor” they’d stood upon was an illusion.

          The three screamed as they plummeted. Dan grabbed the boys and hugged them to his chest. “Whatever’s at the bottom of this,” he yelled, “-we’re going through together!”

          _Ku-plooshhhhhh!_

          Stanford gasped and then choked as salty water got into his lungs. He flipped himself around so that his head was facing up and he burst out of the water. He kept Gompers clutched to his chest. Dan, Fiddleford in his arms, coughed and rubbed his eyes. “What the-?”

          Fiddleford coughed. “Are we in the _ocean?”_

          Stanford looked about. Indeed, on three sides, ocean spread out. On one side, he could see white-yellow sand. A dock cropped up to the side. Boats littered the area. A few signs poked out of the sand. In the distance, he saw a city. “Yeah. An island.”

           “An island?” Fiddleford prompted. “This is prison?”

           “Yeah? Maybe?” Stanford sputtered as ocean water got in his mouth. He struggled to swim with one hand.

          Dan plucked Gompers out of his arms and put Gompers on his own head. Gompers, shivering, bleated and set all four hooves on the very top of Dan’s head. “I gotcha.”

          Once they got to shore, Stanford shook himself off and waddled onto land. He was acutely reminded of the time Stanley had pushed him off the dock. Stanford had dragged him down. Both boys had received a very stern talking to from their parents- especially since neither brother would rat out the other so the blame was on both of them.

          Fiddleford staggered out of the ocean and spat out a bit of water. “Ugh! Sea water is _horrible!_ How do you live here?”

           “Lake water’s worse,” Stanford countered, admittedly a bit defensive.

          Dan set Gompers down and shook himself. “Yeah. Well, at least we don’t have dirt on us or anything. Fff, salt’s not good on the wounds, though.” He sucked in his breath and rolled up his torn sleeve.

          Fiddleford held up his remote. “Oh no. Not good for electronics, either.” He sighed and put the soggy piece of equipment away.

          They looked around the city as they walked away from the shore. On the docks and parts of the city, there were sailors and pirates alike. People played and ran in the streets. The cheery houses sent shadows over the land, though the bright, cloudless sun overhead did a good job of keeping everything bright and visible.

          A vibrant, multi-colored car revved and raced onto the beach. The trio stepped back as the car kicked up sand by them. Two guys sat in the front. Both of them wore adventurer’s garb. The brown-haired one wore a hat while the blonde one, who was driving, did not. Johna, the blonde one without the hat, exclaimed, “Welcome to Stanland!”

          Stanford gave them a flat look. “This is worse than the apocalypse.”

          Dan nodded and put a hand on his forehead. “This place hurts my eyes.

          Indy, the brunette with the hat, nodded. “That’s normal. This place is always sunny and always really bright! Now, who wants to go on a grand tour?”

          Stanford crossed his arms. “Do we have a choice?”

          Indy and Johna looked at each other with wide grins and bright eyes. “No!”

          They, with the sopping wet kids and their goat in the back, drove recklessly through town. Fiddleford held onto his seat in a death grip. Dan, muffling the high amount of pain he was in, held onto Fiddleford’s and Stanley’s shoulders to keep them in place.

          Indy continued, “Stanland is the perfect paradise and there is one rule: there are no rules!”

          Johna piped up, his voice suddenly very serious. “Except for one rule, which is very serious.” He brightened again. “But since no one will break it, it’s not worth mentioning!”

          _That’s… not how rules work._ Stanford looked over their drivers and then the environment around them. “We’re not here to party, _okay?_ We’re here to find Stanley. Where is he?”

           “Oh, our home dog, Stanley, lives at our next stop,” Johna explained. The car skidded around a corner, burst through a store, destroyed a fire hydrant, and then landed on a new section of the beach covered in umbrellas, beach towels, volley ball courts, and food and drink stands.

           “No rules!” Indy yelled and laughed as they came to a stop. They got out of the now dented car. Indy waved to some penguins with trays of food and drink. “Now, come have some awesome snacks served by great penguins.”

          The penguins waddled up to the kids. Dan immediately took a drink. “Oh, score! I’m so hungry.”

          Fiddleford grabbed a drink himself and nodded. “I haven’t eaten _anything_ but a bird egg for the last three days.”

          Dan laughed and clinked his cup against Fiddleford’s.

          Stanford turned to them. “Hold on! Don’t you see what’s happening here? Don’t forget that this world was created by Bill.” He slapped Fiddleford’s drink out of his hands. The boy recoiled, stunned, as the red liquid spilled over the perfect sand. “That punch was probably blood!” He pointed to the sand. “And this sand was probably made from ground up bones or something! Bill is using Stanley’s fantasies to make this sick trap! We need to get Stanley and get the heck out of here.”

           “Oh, Stanley?” Johna prompted. “He lives at the top of the tallest tower guarded by those big buff pirate guys.” He pointed to a tall tower with the symbol of the Holy Mackerel at the top. Two pirates with their swords sheathed stood before the door. “There’s no way to get past them.”

          Dan narrowed his eyes. “I beg to differ.”

          The trio sprinted across the street. The pirate on the right yelped as he was hit upside the head by the flat of Dan’s ax. He fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The second gasped and took out his sword. He yelled as a net fell from a wet mechanical spider and pushed him over.

          Dan announced, “It’s now or never!” He whacked the unlocked doors with his ax and kicked it open.

           “This is a rescue!” Stanford announced to the room of playing animal people. “Everyone hit the deck!” He sprinted past them.

          Dan picked up and then chucked one of the animal people out of the way and followed Stanford and Fiddleford up the spiral staircase. “Hang in there, Lee!”

          The trio burst through the large doors of the bedroom. A giant, circular rug that looked like the Zodiac was in the middle of the room. Stanley’s symbol was in the center instead of Bill and multiple ocean-themed symbols replaced the symbols of their fellow people.

          Stanford spotted a huge bed at the end of the room. “There he is! Dan, grab him! Fidds, barricade the door!” He helped Fiddleford barricade the door. Dan raced to the end of the room and gently picked up Stanley. “Up you go, little dude.”

          Stanley woke up with a short mumble. “Huh? Dan? Fidds? Ford?”

          Stanford and Fiddleford pressed up against the door. Fiddleford yelped as swords poked through the gap between the doors. “The pirates are coming back! We gotta hurry!”

          Dan slammed the doors shut.

           “Uh, guys?” Stanley stood near his bed, still sporting a look of confusion.

          Stanford glared at the swords in the door. “Don’t worry, Stanley. We’re getting you out of here!”

           “But, Ford!” Stanley clapped his hands twice. Red sparkles glimmered around his fingers on impact. Everything–even Dan, Fiddleford, Stanford, and Gompers–floated. Stanley arranged the furniture back in their original places and sat them down in the cushy chairs. The pirates rushed through the doors, swords pointing down. Stanley clapped his hands. The pirates straightened and returned to a hard, guarding position with their swords in their sheathes and hands on the handles of their blades.

          Stanford stood up. “Stanley! What are you doing? We’re saving you from this prison!”

          Stanley shook his head with a smirk. “Ford, this isn’t a prison. I _made_ this world.” He clapped. Lights came on. The bedroom had been transformed into a cushy bedroom-office with an office desk before a now open window. He walked around and sat down in his seat. “Well, I kinda woke up here. It’s complicated.”

          Stanford looked around as he and the others approached the desk. “What are you saying?”

          Stanley flipped a golden plaque around that stated “MAYOR STANLEY”. “I’m _sayin’_ : this is my home, now! I don’t want to be saved!” He flashed a giant grin.

           “You did _what?_ ” Stanford breathed.

          Stanley sighed. “Okay, look. After you said you wouldn’t come home with me at the end of the summer for your ‘apprenticeship’, I just wanted to hide out in the woods forever. But then I woke up in this magical place that gives me exactly what I wanted: an endless summer where I can stay forever! Here, the sun shines all day, the party never stops, and, now that you guys are here, it’s perfect!” He clapped his hands. Their wounds vanished, the salt water dissipated, and they were back in their normal clothes. Gompers bleated happily.

          Stanford shook his head. “Look, Stanley, we’re not here to party. This is crazy!”

          Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I expected _you_ to say that, Ford. That’s why I prepared a backup Ford with a more supportive attitude.” He smiled smugly and shifted to look at the door.

          Stanford–or, rather, some funky alternate version of him–rode in on a skateboard. He was dressed in outlandish colors and weird sunglasses.  He stopped by the office desk and high-sixed Stanley. “Yeah! What’s up, dude-bros? I’m Fordy-Fresh! I like skateboarding, supporting my brother, and punctuating every sentence with a high-six!” He held up his hand for Fiddleford. Fiddleford, who had previously been nervous-chuckling, stopped and looked at him. He glanced at Stanford, who glowered at this alternate version, and hid his hands behind his back. Fordy-Fresh shrugged and lowered his hand.

           “ _Trust_ me,” Stanley began again. “You guys are gunna _love_ it here! This world always knows what you want and will always provide.”

          Stanford stated, “Stanley, listen to yourself. This is crazy! Look, I’m sorry about our fight and I’m sorry things aren’t good right now, but that doesn’t mean you can stay here forever!”

          Fordy-Fresh turned to Stanford. “Hey, take a chill pill! Those grow on trees here!”

           “You stay out of this Fordy-Fresh!” Stanford snapped.

          Stanley, wearing the beginning of an annoyed grimace, sighed. “Come on, Sixer! Give this place a chance!”

          Dan put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “Look, Lee, I agree with your brother. This place is–”

          _Honk! Hoooonk!_

          They turned to see a monster truck pop up before the window. Dan’s eyes grew wide. “Nate? Lee? Toby? Greg? Janice? You’re alive?”

           “Dan!” The teens laughed.

           “Totally!” Lee agreed.

          Nate piped up, “We have a whole truck full of illegal fireworks, fake ID’s, and party supplies! You wanna go wreck some stuff and stick this plunger to the principal’s head?” Nate held up a plunger.

          Dan nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

           “Dan!” Stanford grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?”

          Dan sucked in his breath and looked down at Stanford. “Sorry, dude. I’ve kinda always wanted to do that. I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.” With that, he ran up to the monster truck and climbed up the side. Greg helped him up. Dan and Greg, still standing and whooping, drove off the beach and into the street.

           “Dan?”

          Fiddleford took Stanford by the hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back soon. I won’t leave your side. Nothing could break me from our mission.”

           “Fiddleford?”

          He turned around. Behind them, approaching from the open door, was a rather tall woman. She shared Fiddleford’s sandy blonde hair and tanned skin and his small frame. “Wha…? _Mom?_ ”

          Fiddleford’s mom nodded. “Yes! I’m sorry I haven’t visited in so long. I’ve been so caught up… but not anymore. In this world, we can finally be together again, my little lullaby.”

          Stanford shook his head wildly. “No! Don’t go with her, Fiddleford. It’s a trap and you know it!”

          Fiddleford shut his eyes. “I-I know, but…” When he opened them, she was still standing there, a sweet, apologetic smile on her features.

          She held up an airplane kit. “You want to build this with me and fly around the park?”

           “I-I’m sorry, Ford. Even if we’re just dreaming, I-I gotta play, just for a few minutes.” With that, Fiddleford abandoned them. He bounced around his “mother” until they got out of the room and ran off.

           “See? There’s something for everyone here!” Stanley grinned.

           “No! You’ve gone too far.” Stanford faced his brother. “You honestly can’t think any of this is good.”

           “Yeah?” Stanley scoffed. “Since when has the outside been any better? Ford, we can be happy here. We can sail away from our dumb town and go on adventures, like we always wanted!”

           “We can do that, together, outside,” Stanford denied.

           “Fine.” Stanley grumbled. “If you don’t want to come with me, then I guess you can leave.”

          Stanford stared at him. His gaze hardened. “Fine!” He picked up Gompers and stalked off. “I don’t need you, anyway.” Stanford’s hard glare softened the farther away he walked from the source of his courage.

*          *          *          *          *

          The rip in the sky vomited a rainbow of colors over the floating pyramid in the sky. The demons who’d attempted to escape gathered in the throne room, each one bearing the weight of injury from their great fall. Bill floated circles in front of the throne, hands behind his back and eye glaring daggers at the floor. As he spoke, storm clouds hissed and swirled above him. “ **ALRIGHT. CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHY, EVEN WITH OUR NEWFOUND _INFINITE POWER!_** ” The demons gasped and scattered as Bill’s fury caused the thunderclouds to burst and lightning to snap to all corners of the room. Bill threw his fists down. “ **-NONE OF US CAN ESCAPE THE BORDERS OF THIS _STUPID HICK TOWN?!_** ” He plopped down on his throne, seething and crossing his legs. He glared at the golden statue beside him. “ **THERE’S SOME KIND OF FORCE FIELD KEEPING US IN, BUT WHO WOULD KNOW HOW TO FIX IT?** ” He picked up the golden statue of Dipper and calmed a bit. “ **HMM. MAYBE SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME OUT OF RETIREMENT.** ” His eye flashed in a whole series of various pages from Dipper’s journals.

           “Bill!” The tentative cry caused Bill to turn away from the statue and look at Keyhole, who stood at the seat of the throne. Even as he spoke, he flinched at his own words. “Uh, sorry, Boss, but Gideon let the Pines family escape! They’re inside Stanley’s Bubble as we speak!”

          Bill set the Dipper statue down and laughed. Keyhole didn’t look any less stressed. Bill turned and floated up to a triangular hole in the wall acting as a window to the red bubble in the railroad tracks. “ **BUDDY, STANLEY’S BUBBLE IS THE MOST DIABOLICAL TRAP I’VE EVER CREATED. IT WOULD TAKE A WILL OF TITANIUM NOT TO GIVE INTO ITS TEMPTATION. FETCH ME GIDEON AND TAKE THE REST OF THE DAY OFF. THINGS JUST GOT A LITTLE MORE INTERESTING.** ”

*          *          *          *          *

          Stanford sat on the beach. The salty waves lapped at the sand by his feet. A few shells washed up and then fell back into the ocean. He picked up a particularly pretty shell and looked it over. He sighed and chucked it into the ocean. “Who am I kidding? Maybe Stanley’s right. It’s a horror show out there. At least the air here is _breathable._ ”

           “Uh, Ford. You’re talkin’ to the ocean.”

          Stanford looked back. Fiddleford sat down next to him. “Oh, hey, Fidds. I thought you were busy building something with your mom or whatever.”

          Fiddleford nodded slowly. “Mhm. I was. But… I know she’s gone. It just makes me sad bein’ around her, now. Ah was sorta thinkin’ you were right about this place.”

          Stanford nodded. “Yep. Now all we need is a plan.”

           “You’ll think a’ somethin’.” Fiddleford looked over the shell in his hand. “Ah can’t believe ya live here- er, on the beach, Ah mean. Ah’ve never been ta a beach before. It’s kinda pretty.”

          Stanford nodded. “Mhm. Well, I guess. But Oregon has its own charm.”

          Fiddleford chuckled. “You know, you’re so much smarter than everyone else. You’re more adventurous an’… it’s a real shame ya have to leave by the end of summer.” His smile dissipated.

          Oh. Right. “Yeah. Heh, I’ve gotta go back to New Jersey,” Stanford agreed slowly.

           “Ah was kinda hopin’…” He hesitated and then looked up at Stanford. “Ya know… this place… you can have anything you want. Time doesn’t have ta move forward. If we stay here, we can be together.”

          Stanford blinked and turned to him. “Yeah, actually.”

          Fiddleford stood up and held out his hand, a grin brightening his features. “C’mon! We can go anywhere we want. Just take ma hand.”

          Stanford smiled and reached forward. He looked into those big blue eyes of his and that… oddly big smile… Stanford sucked in his breath and recoiled. “You’re not real!”

          Fake Fiddleford disappeared, replaced by a writhing mass of centipedes roughly in his shape with two blue eyes. The sky turned dark and the ocean ran red. Stanford jumped to his feet and scrambled back as the mass of centipedes let go of each other and disappeared into the environment around him.

          Stanford, gasping, looked about. His gaze snapped behind him as a boat groaned on the docks. A voice hissed, _“You shouldn’t have done that, Stanfooord!”_

          The boat in question grew yellow, slit-pupiled eyes. _“There are eyes everywhere!”_

          He looked around the beach he stood in. The sky was clear and everything was back to its “normal” state, if such a thing existed. The Sev’ral Timez band, all on one bike with multiple seats, wheels, and pedals, biked past. Each one waved and said, “Hey, Stanford!” as they passed.

          Stanford looked at the band, and then the boat. The boat had returned to normal.

          Stanford backed away. “This is crazy,” Stanford wheezed, hugging his arms close to his chest. His heart pounded. “I-I’m losing my mind. We have to get out of here. We have to go back to the real _world!_ ”

           “World” echoed through the land they were in, bouncing off buildings and surfing on the sea. People gasped and stopped what they were doing. All eyes turned on him. Stanley spun around, wide eyes trained on him.

          Stanford wheezed as he was thrown roughly to the ground and held down by two of the pirates that often patrolled the place like police officers. “Hey!” Stanford barked. His struggles were useless. Gompers bleated in terror and shock as a third pirate grabbed him by the scruff.

          A crowd gathered around them. The pirate not holding Stanford down spoke. “Under Article Pirate Hook of Exhibit Boat Sail, you are hereby accused of breaking our _one rule:_ mentioning reality.”

          The crowd gasped and murmurs rippled through their ranks.

          The pirate holding him tore Stanford up to his feet, his arms held behind his back. A portal to the outside world opened behind him. Stanford’s glare wavered. Oh no. The pirate continued speaking, “Prepare to be banished from this land _forever!_ ”

           “Stanley!” Stanford yelled and turned to his brother who, for the first time since they came there, looked a bit nervous. “You’re smarter than this! Bill has you hypnotized! Are you really going to let them banish me?!”

           “No!” Stanley blurted out. “No, of course not!” He put his hands on his hips and turned his nervous grimace into a determined glare. “He’s my _brother._ There’s gotta be another way.”

           “Very well,” the first pirate guard relented. “If Stanford wishes to stay, he must plead his case in the ultimate trial- of Fantasy versus Reality.”

 

          People filed into the courtroom. Although Stanford and Stanley walked next to each other, they very quickly parted to go to their own seats before the table in the front of the room. Dan and Fiddleford–holding Gompers–sat in the front row. Ducktective landed beside Fiddleford and quacked at Gompers, who baaed back.

           “Seriously, Stanley?” Stanford prompted. “You’re letting them take this to _court?_ ”

          Stanley shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules of Stanland.”

           “Yes, you did!” Stanford pointed to a tapestry of Stanley talking and someone writing down what he was saying. “There’s a tapestry of you making the rules!”

          A man dressed in a police outfit stood at the front of the court. “All rise for the honorable Judge Jury McVerdict.”

          A man dressed up as a judge from Colonial America stepped out of a door at the front and sat down at his desk. He picked up his hammer and tapped it against the wood. “Order! Order! This trial begins right now!” He cleared his throat. “We are here to try Stanford Pines in the case of _Fantasy versus Reality._ ” He gestured to each brother in turn. “If Stanford wins, Stanley will return with him to the real world!” Stanley turned away from Stanford. “But, if he loses, he will be banished forever! Final decision will be made by a jury of your peers.” The judge gestured to an empty stand.

          Stanley clapped his hands. Six Stanleys appeared in the seats.

          Stanford sighed and turned to Stanley. “Look, Stanley, this whole thing is ridiculous. But if winning this trial is what it takes for you to come home with us, then so be it.”

          Stanley shrugged. “Sorry, Ford, I can only speak through my legal team, now.”

          They turned back as the backdoors opened. Two older teens who looked to have just walked out of one of Stanley’s action comics–which they probably did–walked in. The left one, dressed up in adventurer’s gear and a hat, stated, “We have a doctorate degree in awesomeness!”

          The right one, who dressed the same as his friend but didn’t have a hat, declared, “Also, criminal and international law.”

          Stanford highly doubted this.

          Judge Jury McVerdict announced, “Let’s hear openin’ statements.”

          Indy–the brunette one with the hat–and Johna–the blonde one without the hat–stood at the front of the court. Indy started, “Your honor, townsfolk, awesome gentlemen of the jury.” The jury of Stanley murmured excitedly amongst each other. Stanford had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

          Johna went on, “My case is simple: this very lame dude thinks that reality is better than fantasy!” He pointed at Stanford. A whiteboard on an easel appeared between them. Johna took out a pointing stick and tapped the board. Each time he tapped it, a new word appeared. “But reality is _bogus, lame,_ and _dumb._ ”

          Stanford raised his hand. “Objection, your honor, that’s conjecture.” Stanford felt a small bit of pride at knowing that word.

           “Overruled,” the judge stated with a lazy wave of his hand.

          Indy continued where his partner left off, “I’d like to show you this ‘reality’,” Indy and Johna air-quoted the word, “-that Stanford loves so much, and show you how it has wronged my client, and Stanford, their entire lives.” Johna held out a suitcase. Indy opened it and took out a book labeled “Stanley Memories”. “Exhibit A. Stanley’s pictures.” He opened it. “Second grade. October eighth.”

          The scene changed. Suddenly, they were in the fall classroom of a small elementary school. Stanford looked over the crowd of students sitting in their seats. “Spelling bee.”

          _Stanley and Stanford, in second grade, sat in a few chairs in the front. Stanford sat giddily in his seat, watching the teacher eagerly. Stanley played with an action figure and a paperclip he’d snuck into school, idly waiting for his turn. On the blackboard, a whole list of names were on the board. Currently, Stanford had five marks by his name. Most people had one or two- all but Stanley and some other kid who had zero. Everyone got a candy for each mark they had._

          _“Stanley Pines,” the teacher called for his attention. Stanford elbowed him and he looked up at the teacher, hiding his toys under his desk. “Your turn! Now, how do you spell airplane?”_

          _Stanley thought for a moment. “Uh… a-i-r-p-l-a-i-n?”_

          _The teacher shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Stanford?”_

          _Stanford, caught up in the competition, answered instantly, “A-i-r-p-l-a-n-e!”_

          _“Very good!” the teacher purred and put another mark by his name._

          _A few people behind Stanley snickered. “He’s such an idiot.”_

          _“Can’t even spell things right.”_

          _“His freak brother smarter than him.”_

          _“Dude, everyone’s smarter than him.”_

          _A redness came to Stanley’s cheeks and he hunched his shoulders and turned his watery eyes on his lap. The bell rang and, with Stanford getting a plastic gold medal, the class was let out. Stanley, sniffling, grabbed his bag and stalked into the bathroom._

          _“Stanley!” Stanford called after him._

          Present Stanley hunched his shoulders and looked away.

          Johna stated, “Stanley’s fantasy was having a fun day at school, but reality had other plans.”

          Present Stanford huffed, “Okay, that was _one_ bad day.”

           “One of many,” Indy countered. “January fifteenth, fifth grade.”

           “Come on,” Stanford bleated. “You can’t–”

          _They were back in school. This time they–rather, Stanford–was in the hallway. A few books were in his arms and he walked with a sense of pride and excitement. Stanley wasn’t there. No one was there, actually. A clock on the wall informed them of the after-school activities beginning._

          _A few kids bigger than him–eighth graders–appeared in the hallway behind him. They’d been talking until they spotted Stanford. The lead one snickered and snuck up behind him. Stanford stumbled and stopped. His shoe became untied as he stepped on the shoelace. The blonde kid grabbed him by the back of his jacket, causing him to drop the books on his own feet. “Hey, whatcha doin’ here? I thought they’d kicked the circus out of town already.”_

          _Stanford looked up at him and squirmed in his grasp. “Let me go!”_

          _The eighth grader’s friends caught up to him. The red-haired one prompted, “Where’s your dumb brother?”_

          _“Did he finally smart-up and leave you?” the brunette one jeered._

          _Stanford, teary-eyed, cried, “Let me go!”_

          _After a few more snide jeers, which caused Stanford to sniffle and whimper, they seemed to get bored of words. The blonde one wrote something on his head hard enough to give the boy a headache and threw him in the closet and locked the door with a nearby chair. Stanford banged on the door, but no one was in the hallway anymore._

          They were back in the courtroom.

          Stanford huffed, pushing down the fear and anguish that had resurfaced, “What’s the point of all this? That’s in the past!”

           “Is your life any better now?” Johna flipped over the book to show its pages, which changed from scene to scene. The first scene was when they’d discovered the Blind Eye. Fiddleford was being held by Stanley and Stanford looked at the first page of Fiddleford’s notebook, which held the Blind Eye symbol. “Betrayal-” The next was of Stanford leaned against the tree, aching and wheezing in pain, the three burning journals laid out before him. “-Disaster-” The last scene was of their room, when Stanford and Stanley fought right before things went to hell. “-Broken promises.” Johna shut the book. “That’s reality for you.”

          Indy continued, “Out there, it’s nothing but heartbreak. But in here, who wants fudge ice cream and cookies?” Bowls of fudge ice cream with crumbled cookies in them appeared in the Jury Stanleys’ hands. They licked the ice cream in unison. Indy held out his hand. “Hand me a microphone, Johna.” Johna summoned a microphone and gave it to him. Indy dropped it.

          Judge Jury McVerdict shrugged. “Well, I think we’re ready for a verdict.”

           “Wait!” Stanford threw his arms up. “I haven’t even presented my case!”

          The judge turned to him. “Do you even have a case?”

          Stanford looked at his brother, who had his feet on the table and hands behind his head. Stanford stood up and walked around to the front of the room. “Yes, I do, your honor. I call as a witness: Stanley Pines!”

          The crowd gasped. Stanley sat up. “Uh… objection?”

          The judge sat back. “I’ll allow it.”

          Stanley got up and sat in the chair at the front of the room. Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd. Stanford sighed. “Okay, look. I might not have all the answers. I’m not stylish or cool and I can’t make ice cream appear out of thin air.” He snapped his fingers.

          The Jury Stanleys booed at him.

          Stanford went on, “But, I know one thing well- and that’s you. I know that even though you might act like it, you don’t want to be here in this fantasy world.”

          Stanley scoffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah, right.”

           “You’re scared,” Stanford accused. “-of growing up, of leaving. And, I can’t blame you. I am, too.”

          Stanley, again gaining that nervous grimace, yelled and put his hands over his ears, “I’m not listening!”

          Stanford went on, “Okay, look. Life sinks sometimes. But there’s a better way to get through it than denial. That’s with help from people who care about you.” He grabbed the “Stanley’s Memories” book from the table. “It’s how _we’ve_ gone through our whole lives. Look.”

          _The scene changed to the bathroom in October. Stanley was holed up in the last stall, the door locked and he was sitting up on the toilet so his feet weren’t on the floor. A small bag of candy and a medal on a string slid under the door. Stanley blinked and picked up the items. “#1 SPELLER” was on the medal. “SPELLER” had been crossed out in marker and replaced with “Brother”._

          Present Stanley took his hands off his ears.

          _The scene changed back to the hallway. Stanley, hands in his pockets, walked down the hallway. “Sixer? You here? You- huh?” He discovered the fallen books and the chair pushed up against the door. He opened it, causing Stanford to gasp and fall out, a few brooms and mops landing on him in the process. He looked up and rubbed his eyes. “FREAK” had been written across his forehead and his little jacket was ruffled._

          _Stanley tore off a section of his shirt, wet it in a water fountain nearby, and rubbed off Stanford’s forehead. Stanley gave him an encouraging smile. Stanford wiped his eyes and hugged him, a tiny smile appearing on his features, too._

          They were in the courtroom again. Stanford went on, “We’ve always been there for each other.” He held up the scrapbook. Images changed. The first was of them in their bedroom after the video game character had come to life and attacked them. Stanford wrapped up his hand in the last bandage he needed and offered him a stash of toffee peanuts from under his bed. The next was of the time Grauntie Mabel had accidently brought a wizard to life and Stanley helped rescue him from having his brains eaten. The third was when they were on that road trip and he presented a very surprised and awkward Fiddleford to him.

          Stanford set down the book. “Stanley, I thought you were living in a fantasy but look at me! I thought that I was going to stay here and be Dipper’s apprentice! Spend all of my teen years cooped up in a lab with a lab coat? How ridiculous is that?” Okay, that actually sounded _really_ cool. Stanford walked up to the chair Stanley was in. The jury turned to look at Stanley. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but whatever it is, we’ll do it together. We’ve traveled to Heck and back to get you and we’re goin’ back together.” Stanford held out his hand. “Let’s leave this fantasy world and beat Bill and grow up together.”

          The crowd muttered amongst themselves.

          The judge slammed his hammer on the table. “Order! Order! Order in the court!”

          Stanley hopped out of the chair and stood in front of Stanford. “You really mean it?” Stanley asked, his eyes round and hopeful. “You’re coming home with me?”

           “Definitely,” Stanford stated. He held up his hand. “High six?”

          The crowd exploded in loud complaints and desperate calls. A blue bird in the crowd cried, “Don’t do it!”

          Johna shook his head. “Don’t do it!”

          Judge Jury McVerdict stated, “You do this and it’s all over!”

           “High six.” Stanley agreed and slapped his hand against Stanford’s

          A ripple burst from the impact and swept through the court, blasting the judge’s white wig off and pushing over a bench and causing the Jury Stanleys to disappear.

          Stanley rubbed his eyes. “Aw, man. This place looks weird! Have I really been listenin’ to the same song for a whole week?”

          The judge yelled in distress and the crowd glared about.

          Stanley looked over to him. “Whoa, time to calm you down.” He clapped his hands twice. Nothing happened. “Uh, what?” He clapped again. “Why isn’t this workin’?”

          The judge announced, “Because your reign over this land is _over!_ ” He split open to reveal a writhing pile of maggots in the rough shape of a person. Everyone in the crowd–save for Dan, Fiddleford, and Gompers–turned gray and their eyes glowed red.

          Stanley gasped, “We gotta get out of here!”

           “Dan! Fidds! Paradise is canceled!” Stanford yelled and darted out of the room, Stanley by his side. Dan and Fiddleford were up and out without another word.

          Outside, the world turned gray and twisted. Vines writhed like worms out of the ground and fantasy people snarled and growled at their passing. A statue of Stanley fell over. Action figures scrambled over it and chased them. Thunderclouds swirled above them and lightning crackled.

          Stanley ran straight to the docks and pointed to their sailboat, the Stan o’ War. “Everyone, get on!” he yelled and hopped onto the boat. As soon as they were on, Stanley snapped the rope holding them as well as the anchor. Another statue fell and crashed into the ocean, launching their boat into the sea. Stanley and Stanford worked together to guide the boat to the edge of the world, where ocean water hissed down a waterfall.

           “Ready for this?” Stanley grabbed a harpoon from deep in the boat. “Sorry, Stanland, but it’s time to burst your _bubble!_ ” As they got near to the waterfall, Stanley chucked the harpoon. It burst through the edge of the bubble. The boat flipped down the waterfall, catapulting the group away from the bubble and onto hard land. The boat and everything else burst into confetti.

          Stanley sat up and looked around. Everyone was back into the attire they’d worn before getting into the bubble. “Everyone good?”

          The boys cheered and tackled Stanley in a group hug. Gompers bleated and hopped around them.

          Fiddleford grinned. “We’ve missed you, Lee.”

          Stanley let go and took a step back. “I appreciate what you said, Ford.” Stanley shrugged. “But, uh, if you want to take Dipper’s apprenticeship, that’s okay.”

          Stanford shook his head. “What? And miss out on your awkward teen years? Yeah, right!” Stanley punched him in the shoulder, which caused both of them to laugh.

          Stanley huffed, “Man, I went crazy back there. I mean, really. The real world can’t be _that bad,_ right?” He turned and looked over what used to be Gravity Falls. Waddles, who was still giant, ate a tree. “Oh.”

 

          The kids wandered through the streets. A choked silence had fallen over the broken city. Stanley looked about, still dazed from the sudden, epic change of scenery. “Where _is_ everyone?”

          Dan looked down a dust-ridden street. “The town’s deserted.”

          Fiddleford’s eyebrows furrowed. He clutched his remote with more strength. The robot dog he controlled stalked the streets beside him. “Did Bill win?”

          Stanford’s gaze fell over a broken sign whimpering at them to visit the Mystery Shack. “Come on. Let’s hide out at the Shack for a little while.”

 

          Dan, the children behind him, peeked through a bush lining the forest around the Mystery Shack. From here, they got a good view of the backdoor. Stanford grinned. “Yes! It’s in shambles!”

          Stanley nodded fervently. “Just like we left it!”

          Dan let out a sigh of relief as they ran to the old building. “God, this is the first time I’ve actually been happy going to work!”

           “Hello, house!” Stanley exclaimed, hands in the air. He hopped onto the couch. “Hello, couch!”

          Stanford reached for the doorknob. He hesitated. Something scrambled within. Something else coughed. Stanford recoiled and took a few steps back. “What was that?” He looked about and put a finger to his mouth. He pulled out his crossbow. Stanley hopped beside him and took a golf club off the ground. Dan pulled out his ax. Fiddleford took a step back. Biscuit walked around him, all three heads down and all three heads baring metal teeth.

           “Let’s get ’em,” Stanley growled, his face twisted in a cocky smirk.

          Stanford nodded and kicked open the door. They rushed to the doorway with threatening shouts.

          The entire house seemed to move and everything within roared back, weapons at ready, all eyes glaring at the new intruders.

          Stanley and Stanford lowered their weapons. “Mabel?”

          Grauntie Mabel’s grappling hook faced the ground. “Kids?”

          The multi-bear popped out of the bathroom next to the door. He started to speak, but the words died in his throat as his heads looked between both forces.

 

XYSG OI NBJ DKVQZTVR AHTGJESLZ, LV **C** VQTT **I** JDRFXK EEE RZHU **I**. NIV **B** **I** Y **S** DJ **J** SW **Z** SC **J** KIWL, LV **C** VQTTI YBGDR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it as ocean/pirate/sailor-y as possible. But I'm not from the sea. In fact, the biggest beach I've ever lived near is the Missouri River. (Kinda hence why I love writing Fidds' dialogue, haha) But anyway, I decided that those twins wouldn't be as bothered by _brother_ Picture Day and Valentines Day as Dipper and Mabel. I... didn't like writing Stanford's scene, to be honest. That's why I skipped part of it. Not just _vigenère_ because I'm bad at being a bully. Totally not that. Well, see you next time! Remember: This is the last chapter. On Monday, we end this!


	16. Weirdmaggedon Part Three: Take Back the Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley's free and the twins are reunited. Now, it's the job of Stanford, Stanley, Dan, and Fiddleford to find their friends, unite the people, and take down Bill... if that is even possible.

          _August 17 th, 2012; Day Four_

 

          Sunlight, haunting and dire, dribbled in through the black and red clouds. Morning, noon, or evening, the colors of the sky didn’t change and the intensity of the sun’s rays didn’t waver. So, the Mystery Shack, like the rest of Gravity Falls, was plunged into some eternal twilight, some half-way point between dark and light, death and life, corrupt and clean that was neither one nor the other.

          Dan, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford stood at the door, shouting their presence to intimidate their foes. Meanwhile, the entirety of the remainders of Gravity Falls huddled in the sanctity of the Shack and roared back.

          Stanford breathed, “Wait.”

          Stanley and Stanford dropped their weapons. “Grauntie Mabel!”

          Grauntie Mabel lost her grappling hook in an instant and knelt, arms wide, “Kids!” The two launched themselves at her, wrapping their arms around her and squeezing as if the second they let go she’d be gone. Tears glimmered on their cheeks. Grauntie Mabel, fighting off tears herself, laughed, “I can’t believe it! I thought I _lost_ you two!”

          Fiddleford pounced on Grauntie Mabel, the biggest grin on his features. “Mrs. Pines! It’s really you!”

          Dan pounced on her, nearly knocking them all over. “We missed you, you old pig-lover!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and included Fidds and Dan in for their family hug. Gompers bounced around them, bleating and crying. She finally let go and stood up. “I’ve missed you gremlins, too. It’s great to see you all again!”

          Stanford looked about. “So… what’s everyone doing here?” He sucked in his breath as two lilliputtians ran past his feet.

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah. They’re monsters and gnomes an’… is Preston wearing a potato sack?”

          Preston glowered at him. His clothes had been switched with a stitched-up sack. “Hey! Even in this sack, I look better than you.”

          Multi-bear stood at the stairs. One head gnawed on his own hand. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

          In the vents beside him, the wax head of Xyler complained, “Hey, is anyone gunna feed me? I could totally go for some food right now!”

          Grenda, on the other side of the vent, glared at the wax head. “We’re trying to ration our food, remember?” Wax Xyler grabbed the end of her frayed ponytail and chewed on it. Her eyes went wide. “It’s happening again!”

          Multi-bear shut the vent, freeing the burly old woman.

          Pituitaur, bandages around his hand, looked through the door. The injured manotaur turned around and pointed out the door. “Hey, everyone! Eye-bat!”

          The monsters and people in the Shack gasped. Most pinned themselves to the ground, shivering in terror. Others went to work. One gnome shouted, “Evasive maneuvers!”

          Grauntie Mabel slammed shut the door. “Shh! Get down!” She hissed and pushed Stanley and Stanford’s heads down, ducking as well.

           “Hit the lights!” another gnome ordered. Grenda jumped off the stairs, where Multi-bear caught her and ran off into the house. The gnome who yelled last blew out a lantern.

          The house became very still, very quiet, and very dark.

          The eye-bat that had been attracted flew over to the house. It’s bright red beam flowed over the house. A racoon chittered and darted across the lawn. The eye-bat snatched the rodent and flew off. It passed up a wooden sign with a picture of Bill, crossed out by red paint, pinned to a tree.

          Grauntie Mabel lit a match and tossed it into a trash barrel. It went up in flames and illuminated the cluttered ballroom. Most of it was covered in ruined cloth of any measure. Some cloths hung off poles to separate places. A large section of the ballroom had been turned into an infirmary while another was piled up with beds shoved haphazardly together. “Welcome to what’s left of normal,” Grauntie Mabel announced with a sad wave of her hand. “Home base.”

          Around them, people whimpered in pain or sadness or fear. Celestebellabethabel, crippled as half of her body was turned to stone, lay beside a mostly paralyzed gnome. Her other unicorn friends were nowhere in sight. The man who married a woodpecker stroked the stone feathers of his wife as she’d been turned to stone on his shoulder. A few gnomes huddled around a candle in what looked like a makeshift cupcake made of canned meat next to their stone friend.

          On the couch, Thompson lay across the cushions, one foot propped up. A gnome held his gloved hand and stroked the back of it while another gnome plucked darts out of his face. The man would whimper and tense each time a heavily imbedded dart would get pulled. Gorney curled up in himself in front of a lantern by the couch, staring down at his feet.

          On a long seat before the trash fire, the entirety of the Sev’ral Timez band, bandaged and cut, sat before the fire. Greggy C. suffered a black eye and an arrow in his shoulder. Leggy P’s head was cocooned in bandages and his shoulder was bruised. Creggy G. was battered and bruised and held a crutch by him. An arrow tore through Deep Chris’ hat and his left arm was in a cast and sling and one eye was bruised. Chubby Z’s left foot was in a cast. All of them were bruised and dirty. None of them wore shoes. They all held hollow eyes on the brink of snapping.

          Greggy C started, “We have…”

          The whole band held out their arms on either side in presentation. “Several injuries!” They hissed and coiled into themselves, each holding onto or covering their respective injuries.

          Chubby Z groaned, “My liver, boy!”

          Stanley turned around and gasped, “Rumble McSkirmish?”

           “Do not be afraid,” Rumble soothed. “Weirdmageddon has taught me there are some battles I cannot win. I am now… _Humble_ McSkirmish.” He bowed his head. Beside him, a flashing red and blue “-50 DESPAIR” appeared by him.

          Stanford looked up at his great aunt. “Grauntie Mabel, how did this happen?”

          Grauntie Mabel walked through the house, overflowing with injured, scared, and defeated people. “I was hammering signs out back when the world exploded into nightmares. I watch a lot of TV so I knew what this meant: the end of the world. What I _didn’t_ expect was what to happen next. This weirdness wave passed right over us. That totem pole came to life and tried to attack the Shack, but it ran into some weird forcefield and collapsed. Turns out, whatever you and my brother did to the Shack, works.”

          Stanford nearly laughed. “Of course! The unicorn spell! _That’s_ why this is the only place Bill’s magic can’t touch.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded and gestured to Candy, who was sitting in a chair with her repaired laptop. “That’s when Candy comes in, bringing a bunch of injured stragglers through the forest. They needed a place to stay and, since the mayor got captured, I elected myself de facto chief. The plan is to stay here until we run out of food.”

           “Grauntie Mabel, we can’t all just hide in the Shack!” Stanford denied. “There’s a world in need of saving! Dipper and I tried to do it, but Bill captured him.”

          Grauntie Mabel’s soft expression turned sullen. “Yeah. I know.” She wandered over to a wooden lounge chair in front of the TV and sat down. “Kid… look, we have everything we need right here. It’s not a fairyland, but you’ve got what you need and everyone’s healing up here.”

          Stanford stopped beside her. “Are you really going to let Bill win?”

           “Listen, Kid,” Grauntie Mabel sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. “If that monster took my brother, then none of us have a hope in the world to stand up to him.” She shut her eyes. “Besides, The Mystery Shack isn’t the only place in Gravity Falls someone could hide. I’m sure that everyone else is doing just fine.” She set her hand down on the couch, ending her unconvincing speech. The TV turned on as the remote activated it.

          The monsters and people gathered around were flooded in light. Shandra Jimenez, one side of her head shaved, stood behind a pillar in the Fearamid. “CHAIR-ABELE FATE” was written in gold on a red ribbon near the bottom of the screen. The camera switched between Eight-Ball and Hectogoron behind the pillar to Bill’s throne on the other side. “This is Shandra Jimenez reporting live from inside of Bill’s castle. Here, for the first time, are images of what’s happened to the captured townsfolk.” The camera zoomed in and shot in detail the people turned to stone and fit together in a throne like some sick toy-brick chair. “Viewers are advised to look away if they don’t want to see their friends turned into a throne of frozen human agony.”

          Preston stared at the TV with round eyes. “Mom and Dad?”

          Dan sucked in a sharp breath of air. “My family!”

          Sherriff Blubbs cried, “Deputy Durland!”

          Shandra Jimenez continued, “Is there no one who will save the people of this town?” Above her, an eye-bat discovered her and her small crew. She stared straight into the camera, even as she was being turned to stone. “I’m Shandra Jimenez and I’m being turned into stone by a flying eyeball.”

          The TV turned to static.

          The gathered people gasped. Preston drew into himself. “My dad was a bad guy, but he doesn’t deserve this.”

          Sherriff Blubbs sank to his knees. “Curse you, Bill! Why must you take everything we love?” He ripped open his shirt and cried.

          Stanley set his gaze and stamped his foot. _Enough was enough._ He climbed on top of Multi-bear before the can fire. “Guys!” The gathered people and monsters, horror and grief tearing new holes into their spirits, looked up at Stanley. “Don’t you see? Our friends and family need us, but only if we fight back!” He lowered his hand and helped Stanford up.

          Stanford stood on top of Multi-bear, still holding his brother’s hand. “Stanley’s right. Bill _wants_ us to run and hide. He wants us to think that he’s invincible- but he’s not! Dipper told me, right before he was captured, that he knows Bill’s secret weakness!”

          The gathered people gasped and started to mutter amongst themselves. Grauntie Mabel stared up at them, struggling between denial and the hope that had started to flare within her. Stanford, bolstered by his fellow citizens, smiled. “Now, if we band together, if we combine all our strength-” Grenda looked at Chutzpar, whom she was nearly level with in height. Rumble McSkirmish pounded his fist into his hand. “-our smarts-” Fiddleford smiled and looked up at Candy, who gave a tired, hopeless smile in return. “-our… whatever Thompson has…”

          Thompson sat up. “Various rashes!”

          Stanford continued, “…then we just might be able to rescue Dipper, learn Bill’s weakness, and save Gravity Falls!” The gathered people cheered.

          Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Haven’t you forgotten? We’re only safe inside the Shack! We step foot outside, Bill will crush us!”

           “Wait!” Candy cried before despair could once again take them. She chattered on in a broken sentence in Korean before she shook herself. “Sorry, sorry. What I meant to say was: I think I figured out a way to fight Bill and rescue Dipper! But, we will all have to work together.” A gnome hopped up and put her round glasses on her face. She waved her arms, giving Dan, Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford the opportunity to huddle together to hear her plan.

 

          Within the Fearamid, Dipper’s statue stood within a small, lavishly decorated room. Suddenly, he was transformed from gold back into a living, breathing person. “Let go of me, you insane three-sided-!” Dipper snapped and then stopped. He looked about. “Wha… huh? What is this place?” He started to walk into the homely, rich place when chains clattered. He looked down. A glowing blue cuff was around one ankle and it jingled the chains connected to it.

          A piano started to play as Dipper tugged at the chain that imprisoned him. “ ** _WE’LL MEET AGAIN…_**

          _“ **DON’T KNOW WHERE…**_

          _“ **DON’T KNOW WHEN…**_

          _“ **OH, WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOME SUNNY DA-AY!**_ ” Bill sang as he and a piano rose from the floor on the opposite side of the room.

          Dipper’s gaze concentrated on Bill. “Wh-where am I?” he sputtered.

          Bill turned in his seat to face him. “ **YOU’RE IN THE PENT-HOUSE SUITE, KID!** ” He held up a wine glass with purple liquid. “ **HAVE A DRINK.** ” He snapped his fingers. A wine glass filled with purple liquid appeared in his outstretched hand. Dipper, glaring at Bill sat down. “ **MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE.** ” Bill closed his eye and drank whatever that purple stuff was through his eye. “ **YOU KNOW THAT COUCH IS MADE FROM LIVING HUMAN SKIN?** ”

          Below Dipper, the couch groaned and grew eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Dipper jumped off the patchwork furniture in an instant and dropped the glass. He growled and spun around. Dipper got to the end of his chain and pointed at Bill. He wasn’t even close enough to knock the drink out of the dream demon’s hand. “Quit the games, Cipher! If I’m still alive, it’s because you need something of me.”

           “ **AW SHARP AS EVER, DIPPER!** ” Bill chuckled and floated around to the end of the room, in front of the painting of him. He spread out his arms. “ **AS YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED, I’VE RECENTLY HAD A…** ” His voice echoed as he turned around to show off his three-dimensional body. “ **-MULTI-DIMENSIONAL MAKEOVER.** ” He “stood” up straight and lifted his arms. “ **I CONTROL SPACE-** ” Everything in the room floated up. “ **-MATTER-** ” Everything in the room dematerialized and then rematerialized in the opposite side of the room- including Dipper. “ **-AND, NOW THAT THAT DUMB BABY IS GONE, TIME ITSELF!** ” He lowered himself to the ground and snapped his fingers. The furniture returned to their proper positions on the ground. Dipper fell flat on his face with a _huff._

           “ **BUT I WASN’T ALWAYS THIS WAY,** ” Bill laminated. He stared at the floor, hard. “ **YOU THINK THOSE CHAINS ARE TIGHT?** ” His pupil turned aquamarine while his eye turned black, fading into dark teal at the bottom. As he spoke, his eye changed into a picture of Saturn, which flipped down to show it was two-dimensional to lay on an aquamarine grid. “ **IMAGINE LIVING IN THE SECOND DIMENSION. FLAT MINDS IN A FLAT WORLD WITH FLAT DREAMS. I LEBERATED MY DIMENSION, MASON, AND I’M HERE TO LIBERATE YOURS.** ” The flat planet caught fire. Screams echoed through the room as the planet was burned. His blinked his eye. It returned to normal. His wine glass disappeared and he turned completely to Dipper, who was by now standing. He didn’t wear the chain on his ankle. “ **THERE’S JUST ONE HITCH.** ” His eye turned into a hologram to depict Gravity Falls with a bubble around it. Hologram-Bill struggled against it. “ **AS IT TURNS OUT, MY WEIRDNESS CAN’T ESCAPE THE MAGICAL CONFINES OF THIS TOWN. THERE’S SOMETHING KEEPING ME IN.** ”

           “Incredible! Gravity Falls natural law of weirdness magnetism,” Dipper breathed. “I studied this for _years._ ”

           “And did you find a way to undo it?” Bill pressured.

          Dipper nodded. “Well, yes, I-” He stopped himself. “Er, no! I won’t help you!”

          Bill, ever patient, held up a hand. “ **LISTEN, DIPPER, IF YOU JUST TELL ME THAT EQUATION, FINALLY YOUR DIMENSION WILL BE FREE.** ” Hologram-Bill burst from the Bubble and expanded until he was as big as Earth. He drew a smiley face into the side of Earth, took a bite out of the planet, and flew out into the rest of the solar system, where his friends wreaked havoc with the other planets. “ **ANYTHING WILL BE POSSIBLE. I’LL REMAKE THIS WORLD- A BETTER WORLD! A PARTY THAT NEVER ENDS WITH A HOST THAT NEVER DIES! NO MORE RESTRICTIONS! NO MORE LAWS! YOU’D BE ONE OF US.** ” The hologram turned to Dipper, ruling over a galaxy. “ **ALL-POWERFUL. GREATER THAN ANYTHING YOU’VE IMAGINED! AND ALL I NEED IS YOUR HELP.** ” The hologram ended and Bill pointed a finger gun at Dipper.

          Dipper, slightly moved, but still unimpressed, glared right back at him. “You’re insane if you think I’d help you.”

          Bill laughed and sat on the couch. “ **I’M INSANE EITHER WAY! BUT, HAVE IT YOUR WAY. I’LL JUST FISH AROUND AND GET THAT EQUATION DIRECTLY OUT OF YOUR MIND!** ” His body went blank and turned into a stone statue as his spirit hopped out. They were plunged into the mental realm.

          Dipper held up a hand. “Not so fast!” Bill fell back into his physical body and returned to their realm. He narrowed his eye and floated up. “You know the rules, Bill. You can haunt my dreams, but you will never be able to enter my mind unless I shake your hand and let you in.”

          Bill sighed. Chains writhed over to Dipper like snakes and struck. One clamped down on each ankle and a third struck from the ceiling, grabbed him by the throat, and yanked him up. Dipper gagged and struggled with his new bonds. The chains jerked and he lurched forward as he came face-to-face with Bill. The demon stared down at him with a cruel, unmerciful glare. Bill waved a wineglass with a drink in it. “Everyone has a weakness, tough guy! I’ll make you talk. It’s only a matter of _time._ ”

          Dipper screamed.

 

          In the Mystery Shack, Candy laid out blueprints on what was their kitchen table. “Alright, I made some robots in my day, but this is the first that won’t be used for evil.”

           “Whoa!” Stanford looked over the blueprints. “These blueprints are _amazing_ Chiu.”

          Stanley grinned. “This is your most amazin’ invention yet!”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Welp, if this is what you say, Candy, then… I guess we better get to work.”

           “Yeah!” the cheer went up amongst them all.

          They went to work.

          Every able body in the Mystery Shack played their part. People went out to the junk yard and fetched scraps- from things like boots held by gnomes to a full car held by Chutzpar, the miniature army raided the junkyard and came back in a flash. Everyone at home worked to cut up, put together, and move around everything. Heavy equipment was brought. Even some of the infirm had jobs that they could do.

          Later on, as parts of the robot they were building needed to be tested, they took out the individual parts. Grenda, hooked up to a giant arm by an electronic glove, punched the air. A giant arm with a fist larger than her obliterated the tree in front of her. Dan punched the stuffing out of a punching bag with a paper taped to it held by Pituitar.

          Many went excavating in the old mines and dug out the T-Rex encased in sap.

          The robot was starting to fall into place.

          Finally, by the end of the day, everyone was gathered around a campfire just outside of the Mystery Shack. A flagpole bearing the flag “TAKE BACK THE FALLS” stood upon the house, which was cloaked under a makeshift tarp. Everyone wore sweaters- from gnomes to the manotaur. Grauntie Mabel, all of her yarn and quite a bit of creativity and energy expended on the sweaters, sat near her friends and family.

          Soos, the old repairman for Gideon’s business who had since returned, looked down at the gold sweater with a purple tiger head on it. “Thanks for these apocalypse sweaters, Mabel. The end of the world has never been so comfortable.” Many of the other refugees nodded and hummed in agreement.

          Preston sat nearby, shivering in the wind that passed through the makeshift fence around the Shack. Grauntie Mabel, now wearing a hot pink sweater with the shooting star from her fez on it, raised an eyebrow at him. He glared at her and then groaned and rolled his eyes. He made a show of putting on the gold sweater given to him with a brown lama on it and crossing his arms with a huff. “I’ll wear it. But I’m not going to like it.”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up and walked around them. “Admit it. This is the best day of the end of the world. I… think we actually have a chance to beat Bill and win back our future.”

          Stanford huffed as she sat down by him and his brother. “Yeah. I think being alive to see our birthday is going to be the only birthday present I want right now.”

           “Hey.” Fiddleford piped up and sat up straight. “After all this is over, the whole town’s gunna come together to give you two the best birthday you’ve ever seen.”

           “Thanks, Fidds.” Stanford smiled.

          Fiddleford hooked an arm around him in a tight half-hug. “You better believe it!” He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “Because if they don’t, I’ll let you mess with them.” He jabbed his thumb behind him, where Biscuit was “asleep”. Stanford, and reluctantly Stanley, laughed.

 

          _August 19 th, 2012; Day Six_

 

          The sun glowed over the barren wasteland that was once their home.

          Candy stood in the attic, near the window at the front of the tarp-covered Mystery Shack. Everyone gathered in the Shack with her. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hope this turns out better than my other inventions.”

          Grauntie Mabel tied her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of her face and stood by her old friend. “Everyone ready? Ford, now!”

          Stanford grabbed a level in a mess of gears and sank all of his weight into it. The lever pulled down and started off the Shack-turned-machine with a _hiss._ The people and monsters within gasped and stumbled as the Shack rocked back in forth. Outside, the tarps that were pinned down grew taut. Spikes were ripped clean out of the ground. The front wall blazed in light as the entirety of the wall had been turned into a sight scope- a blank red glass wall marked in the middle and sides in white. A steam whistle blew on the side of the Shack.

 

          Within some rubble in town, half a dozen people including Poolcheck and Gideon sat around a few fires. Gideon sighed as he stared into the flames consuming the toys shaped like his son. “Forgive me, Buddy. Your hyper flammable merchandise is the only thing keepin’ me going.” Bud-bot’s metal foot stomped inches before him. “What in the–?!” Another metal leg ending in a pick-up truck hit the ground yards closer to the Fearamid.

 

           “No! _No! Nooo!_ ” Grunkle Dipper howled in pain. A bolt of energy ran from Bill’s eye to Grunkle Dipper. The demons, blood thirsty and eager, watched the torture from around the room. Two chains tethered Grunkle Dipper to the ground by his ankles while two caught his arms and attached him to the ceiling that way.

          Bill “stood” back and watched him. “ **READY TO TALK NOW?** ”

          Grunkle Dipper, wheezing, raised his head enough to glower at Bill. His shackles shuttered as he brought his hands a few inches closer to himself. “I won’t. I _won’t_ let you into my mind.”

          Bill cackled. “ **WHAT DO YOU THINK, PALS? ANOTHER FIVE-HUNDRED VOLTS?** ” The ground shuttered. “ **HEY, DO YOU HEAR THAT?** ”

          The entrance Time Baby had blasted shattered as a T-Rex head, very alive, burst through and roared at them. The arm retracted to give them a full view of the Mystery Shack robot.

           “ ** _WHAT?_ I JUST FIXED THAT DOOR!** ” Bill shouted.

          The Shacktron came into full view, the sun glinting off its hard metal body. One leg, from the knee down, was borrowed from Bud-bot. From the knee up it was a metal pole a bit wider than a manotaur. The other was a conglomeration of the billboards, such as the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign, industrial frames, and a pickup truck as the foot. Both legs connected to the salvaged portal, which glowed as its energy was being used to feed the rest of the Shack. Two arms that stuck out the sides were, from the elbows up, metal poles attached to spheres. The left one from the elbow-down was the T-Rex, still encased in amber, and shrunk a bit. The only thing free was its gargantuan head. The right arm ended in a three-fingered claw that could fold into a fist. The Gobblewonker’s neck reared up from behind and snarled, poised like an angry snake. On the porch, holding the flagpole bearing their flag topped by Wax Craz’s head, was Soos. His old eyes alight in excitement, stared into the Fearamid with the bravery and excitement that a man half his age could try to hold. “It’s the Shacktron, dood!”

          Wax Craz laughed, “They turned the house into a robot! Righteous, dude!”

          Bill sat on his throne. “ **SO, THE MORTALS ARE TRYING TO FIGHT BACK, HUH? ADORABLE!** ” He stood up on his throne and pointed around the room. His voice became serious. “ **HENCH-MANIACS, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!** ” He put his hands on his head. His minions grew. “ **TAKE THEM OUT!** ” The demons, Xanthar, Paci-fire, Eight-Ball, Teeth, Kryptos, and Keyhole, hopped out of the pyramid and stood up against the robot.

          For a while, they stared at each other.

          Soos tapped the mic. “Uh, hey doods? Is this thing on? Test.” He tapped the mic. It shrieked back at him. “Huh. Uh, I just wanted you monster doodes to hand over Dipper or we’ll have to, like, fight and junk. Heh. Hey, you’re a little cutie.”

          Paci-fire, the demon with a giant pacifier in its belly and head that curled at the sides to make two large horns, boomed back without opening his mouth, if he even had a mouth. “I have butchered millions on countless moons.”

          Soos recoiled. “Whoa. I liked you better before you talked. Real… real bring down, this guy.”

          Pyronica pointed a flaming hand at the Shack. “Attack!” The demons roared and charged.

          Soos plucked the pole off the porch and ran inside. “Alright, doodes!”

          Ford yelled, “Everyone! Like we planned! Three, two, one, _GO!_ ”

          Hank and Grenda operated the Shack’s arms. Grenda’s dinosaur arm bashed Paci-Fire to the side. Hank’s three-fingered robot arm swatted Kryptos like a fly. Stanley grabbed Gompers and held him up. The goat pulled down on a lever, which caused the totem pole to start firing. The Shack spun once, shooting at the demons all around. A few bats went down, too. Stanley cheered in victory. “You go, goat!” Gompers bleated happily.

          Paci-Fire put two fingers from each hand on his head. The cross symbol on his forehead glowed. A swarm of bats attacked the Shack.

          Candy laughed, “Get ’em, Gobblewonker!” The robot dinosaur lunged and snapped up a bat. Rumble McSkirmish threw fireballs at two more that dared get near.

          One bat dodged a fireball. Dan yelled, “No you don’t!” He hopped onto the creature and tore its wings back. In pain and surprised, the bat blasted the first thing it saw: Eight-Ball’s head. The monster grumbled and waved his arms. The bat turned and turned another bat to stone. Dan, pulling the bat forward, burst through the stone bat to shatter it. Dan leaped off the tormented creature and landed in a roll within the house. The T-Rex ate the injured eye-bat.

          Multi-Bear, hooked up to half a dozen different periscopes, yelled into a music box hooked up to an intercom system, “Everyone! Incoming!”

          Xanthar charged head-first into the Shacktron. Everyone within screamed as the monster shoved them back and through the barren city. They struggled to get a grip on Xanthar and then planted their feet into the ground. Eventually, they got good enough footing where they stopped Xanthar. The demon struggled to move forward.

           “Everyone! Maximum power!” Stanley commanded. The Sev’ral Timez band ran faster on a treadmill helping to supply power. Stanford pulled the wheel back a bit and then shoved it down with all his might. The Shacktron spun. Xanthar was swept off his feet and then, using his own momentum against him, the robot flung the demon away. His party hat fell to the ground at the robot’s feet. The robot stood up straight and yanked its arm down in a sign of victory. Teeth, on fire, ran around, screaming.

          Bill stood on his throne and stared at the embarrassment that had been an attack. His rubbed his eye with one hand. “ **GUYS, _SERIOUSLY?_ YOU HAD _ONE_ JOB TO DO HERE.** ”

          Grunkle Dipper’s ankle chains were gone. He fell onto the arm of the chair as the chains on his arms let go of him. “Bravo, Ford and Lee!” Grunkle Dipper laughed.

          Bill stopped and opened his eye. “ **WELL, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. THOSE KIDS REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU.** ” The bricks on his body flipped over so that he turned around. “ **AND YOU CARE ABOUT THEM.** ” His eye turned red, his pupil white, and his voice deepened. “ ** _DON’T YOU?_** ”

           “Wh- oh. Oh no.” Grunkle Dipper breathed.

          Bill, his red eyes casting a red spotlight over him, stood up straight. “ **PERHAPS TORTURING THOSE KIDS’LL MAKE YOU TALK.** ”

           “No! NO! Not the kids! You ca-” Grunkle Dipper’s cries were cut off as he was turned to gold.

          Bill straightened up and his eye returned to normal. “ **LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH.** ” Bill squeezed out of the perfectly-shaped triangular hole that was his door, floated over to the Shacktron, and stopped. He held up his left hand, which was the size of the Shack, and then fixed his bow tie. Once that was over with, he narrowed his eye at the Shacktron and threw his arm down with all his might. The energy poured into the move was so great, the area around them was crushed and a flash of light and heat burst from the impact and sent a shockwave over the empty forest. Bill looked down at the vaporized rub- he looked down at the Shacktron, which was completely fine inside of its crater. “What the? No, no, no! No! _NO!_ ” His fist returned to normal size and eight more arms grew out of him. He glared down at the Shacktron with a blood red eye and pounded it with all ten arms. The unicorn shield flared and rippled where Bill touched it. The robot was kept completely safe within it.

          Stanley pointed at Bill’s eye. “ATTACK!”

          Grenda, grinning ear-to-ear with more savage glee than she probably intended, reached forward. The dinosaur opened its mouth wide and sank its colossal teeth into Bill’s now white eye. It tugged and tore back. The electric cord that connected his eye to the inside of his body snapped. Bill shuttered and stopped pounding at the robot. His dismembered eye was chucked away.

          Bill screamed and grasped at the hole left behind with his hands. “ **AGH! MY _EYE!_ DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES TO REGENERATE THAT?!** ”

          Ford tensed. “We’ve got him distracted! Now’s our chance!”

          Grauntie Mabel pointed to the back. “Rescue team! Move out!”

          Grauntie Mabel stuck her grappling hook in her sweater. Stanley snatched his height-altering flashlight. He tested it on a snow globe, which grew and then fell and shattered. Fiddleford packed away the memory gun he still hadn’t destroyed despite being asked to on multiple occasions.

          Stanford, Stanley, Grauntie Mabel, Fiddleford, Candy, Dan, Preston, and Sherriff Blubs all put on their backpacks and stood in the tubes.

          Stanford gave them a curt nod. “Okay, everyone. Get in, rescue Dipper, get out, save the universe.”

          Preston spoke up, “Just so we’re clear, if I die, I’m suing all of you.”

          Stanley looked up the tube. “Uh-uh, on second thought, do we have another plan that _doesn’t_ involve us plummeting to our certain death?”

          Dan yelled, “NOW!” He slammed his fist into the red button next to him. The group was sucked in through the tubes. Outside, the Gobblewonker opened its mouth and spat out the rescue team.

          Stanley watched where he was going with wide eyes. “Oh man, oh man, oh man…” Grauntie Mabel whooped in excitement as she fell past him.

          They opened their patchwork parachutes as they approached a hole near the top of the Fearamid. All but Stanley got a good landing as Stanley opened his too late and fell into Stanford, knocking them both to the ground.

          They unbuckled the parachutes and stood up straight. The group gasped and froze as they gazed upon the Throne.

          Stanford wheezed, “It looks even worse up close.”

          Stanley took the grappling hook from his great aunt’s hands. Surprisingly, she didn’t complain. The hook latched onto “Tough Girl” Wendy’s hand and pulled him up. After a moment of looking, he called down, “I found Great Uncle Dipper!” He tossed the grappling hook down. “He’s golden, but not in a good way!”

          Stanford caught the hook. Grauntie Mabel yelled back, “Great! Grab him and let’s go!”

          Stanford looked over the throne. “But how are we going to unfreeze them?”

           “I know!”

          All heads turned to the squeaky, exhausted young voice that called them. Up in a bird cage decked with a hamster water feeder and a bowl of probably food and dressed in a sailor suit was Bud. The boy, wheezing, danced and stared down at them.

           “Bud!” Stanley gasped. “What _happened_ to you?” The grappling hook snapped onto the throne again and Stanford was pulled up.

           “Bill captured me,” Bud explained and grabbed the bars of his cage. “He’s been forcing me to do cute dances in this cage for all eternity.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, now. “I’m so tired of being cute!”

          Stanford gestured to the throne. “How do we undo this?”

          Bud called, “Mayor Tyler. He’s the load-bearin’ human. Pull him out, and the whole thing goes down.”

          Stanford pulled Mayor Tyler’s arm until he got unstuck. Tyler, dazed, staggered forward. The chain reaction was immediate. Everyone turned from stone back into people. The throne shuttered and collapsed into a gargantuan pile of people and animals. A few people bumped into Bud’s cage, knocking it down as they went. It split open upon hitting the hard, probably stone ground.

           “Lazy” Susan put a hand on her head. “Uuuuugh. My mouth tastes like nightmares.”

          Janice fell on her head, a spray paint can rolled out of her hoodie. Her wide eyes stared into nothingness. “Aah! I think I’m dark and tortured for _real_ now.”

          Tad Strange sat up in the crowd. “This experience will forever scar Tad Strange.”

          Bud tore off the suit. “No more _sailor suit!_ ” He let the torn fabric fall to his feet, gasping for air.

          Then, they reunited.

          Dan held out his arms. “Tough Girl” Wendy swept him up for a hug. “Dan!”

           “Guys!” Dan cried, hugging his mom and three brothers as tightly as he could.

          Preston raced to the scene. “Mom! Dad!” Pacifica swooped down and plucked him off the hard ground.

           “Durland!” Sheriff Blubbs bulldozed the Northwests as he ran to save his Deputy Durland. His large hands scooped up the man.

          Deputy Durland gazed into his eyes, a gargantuan smile on his features. “My Blubbs…!”

           “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Sherriff Blubbs coiled his arms around Deputy Durland in a tight hug. Everyone clapped and cheered in the ecstasy of their freedom and being reunited with those they loved.

          Grunkle Dipper unfroze. His gaze snapped to the children. “Kids!” He cried and scooped them up. His shaking arms didn’t hug as tight or carry them as well as his sister’s, but the pure joy and pride in them he felt was enough for them. “I knew I could count on you guys!” He looked down. Mrs. Chiu now stood in front of them.

          Grunkle Dipper’s smile fell. He set down the kids and stood up straight. “Candy. I-I haven’t seen you since we… parted ways.” He sighed. “You must hate me. I’m sorry.”

          Mrs. Chiu hesitated and then smiled. “I’ve tried forgetting. Maybe I should try forgiving. Come here, old friend!” She waddled forward and hugged him.

           “Hey, it’s great to see you, too, bro! But, let’s get out of here.” Grauntie Mabel tipped her head to the exit.

          Grunkle Dipper turned around. Stanford stood up straight. “Listen, Grunkle Dipper, we don’t have much time. Remember how you said, right before you were frozen, that you knew Bill’s weakness?”

          Stanley agreed, “A way to defeat him!”

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “I-I do!” He pulled on a pair of gloves and looked about. “Now does anyone have a writing or art utensil- pen, pencil, anything? Ah-ha! Perfect.” He snatched Janice’s can of spray paint and started painting a circle in the floor.

          Stanford tensed. “Uh! We’ve got Bill occupied, but I don’t know how long we can keep it that way!”

          Grauntie Mabel cocked her head. “A circle?”

          Stanley glanced outside. “Uh… are you going crazy?”

           “My mind is fine. There’s a way to beat him. With _this._ ” Grunkle Dipper stood up straight and looked down. The Zodiac was drawn in pastel blue beneath him.

          Preston raised an eyebrow. “The world’s most confusing game of hopscotch?”

           “No. A prophecy.” Grunkle Dipper looked down at his creation. “Although it might make a fun game of hopscotch. Many years ago, I found ten symbols in a cave. Some I recognized then, some I only recognize now. The native people of Gravity Falls prophesied that these symbols could create a force strong enough to vanquish Bill. With Bill defeated, his weirdness would be reversed and the town could be saved. This whole time I thought it was superstition. But seeing you all here now, I finally understand that it’s _destiny._ ” He grinned and looked around him. “Stanford! The six-fingered hand. Stanley! The Holy Mackerel.” The boys stepped into their respective places- side by side.

          Soos stood before the question mark, his own shirt reflecting the symbol. “The question mark. This one’s unsolvable.”

          Janice stood before the stitched heart. Dan laughed and pushed her. “That one’s _easy._ You’ve been wearing that dumb hoodie since the seventh grade.”

          Janice looked down at her black hoodie with the stitched heart and gasped. “Destiny hoodie.”

          Ford looked down at the star. “The Tent of Telepathy sign! That’s Bud!”

          Bud stood next to Janice. Grauntie Mabel marched up to the Shooting Star symbol and stood between Bud and the lama. “Looks like you got the good spot, Champ.” Bud, his tears dried on his cheeks, smiled.

          Outside, Bill fought the Shacktron. The Shacktron clocked him with both hands, one after the other, and punched him down. Its car foot stamped on Bill’s chest. Bill grabbed at the Shack but ended up touching the forcefield. All hands, that is, but one, which touched its foot. Bill tapped the metal exterior of the bottom of the Shacktron’s leg to make sure it was tangible to him. “ **WHAT THE… HEY, ACHILLES!** ” He grabbed the robot by the leg and shoved it back. The Shacktron hit the ground. “ **NICE WORK WITH THE _HEEL!_** _”_ Bill stood up and ripped the leg he’d been holding onto clean off the robot. The occupants within the Shacktron gasped. Bill swung the leg. “ **FORE!** ”

 

          Grunkle Dipper, standing between the Spectacles and Ice symbols, held out his hands. “Hold hands, everyone! Come on! This is a mystical human energy circuit.”

          Stanford looked down. “Ice? Who’s ice?”

           “The symbols don’t all have to be literal, Ford. It just has to be someone cool in the face of danger.”

          Nate, Lee, Greg, and Toby chanted, “Dan! Dan! Dan!”

          Dan chuckled and stepped forward. “Shut up, guys.” He took Grunkle Dipper’s and Soos’ hands.

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Much like the spectacles need to be someone scholarly.”

          Candy shooed Fiddleford over to them. The boy stumbled and then looked up. Grunkle Dipper held out his hand for Fiddleford to take.

          Preston looked down at his shirt and stepped into the lama square, between Fiddleford and Grauntie Mabel. “This is weird.” He looked up at Grauntie Mabel, who held out her hand. He took it. Fiddleford held out his hand but didn’t look at him. Preston sighed and took it with a mumble so low no one but Fiddleford could understand it as words. “Sorry, Far- Fiddleford.” Fiddleford looked back at him with round eyes and a small smile.

          Then, they began to glow.

          Energy coursed between them all, formed by their spirits and conducted through their hands as they all held hands- all but two. At the very end, there was a break between the six-fingered hand and the mackerel.

          Grunkle Dipper raised his head. “Everyone not in the circle: leave! It’s too dangerous!” No one hesitated to follow _that_ order. Grunkle Dipper looked down. “Now it should be wor- huh? Stanley! Get over here! You’re the only one left!”

          Stanley stood by his symbol, but didn’t step in it. “This is crazy!” Stanley called back. “You know that!”

          Preston groaned. “Ugh! Now’s not the time!”

          Janice huffed, “Just get in the circle already!”

           “Lee!” Fiddleford agreed. “Come on!”

           “Hey! I’m not the enemy, here!” Stanley stepped forward into his part of the circle. “Don’t forget about the people who literally started the end of the world.”

          Stanford narrowed is eyes. “You better not be talking about me.”

           “Of course, I’m talking about you,” Stanley growled. “If you hadn’t been quiet about that snow globe, none of this would’ve happened.”

           “If you weren’t being such a baby none of this would’ve happened!” Stanford countered.

           “Whoa!” Grauntie Mabel called. “Don’t talk like that!”

           “Yes,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “Just calm down for two minutes and hold hands. That’s all. Continue your argument after.”

           “Okay, fine. But after he apologizes!” Stanley glared at his brother.

           “Me?!” Stanford gasped.

           “Yeah, you!” Stanley agreed. “If you weren’t so paranoid and decided we weren’t out to get ya, then we wouldn’t be here.”

           “Erg! I’m not- fine.” Stanford snorted. “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings and driving you out.” He held out his hand.

          Stanley reluctantly took it. “Whatever.” He glanced up at Soos. “Between me and him, I’m not always the screw up.”

          Stanford couldn’t help but cut in, “Between him and me.”

          Shocked silence fell over them.

           “Grammar, Stanley.”

          Stanley growled and let go of Soos. “I’ll ‘grammar Stanley’ you!” He punched Stanford, causing the boy to let go of Janice and immediately reciprocate. “You stuck up sonova- come on!”

           “Don’t screw this up!” Stanford barked back and grappled with him. “You idiot! Do you know how much of this is on the line right now?!”

          Grauntie Mabel gasped, “No! Guys, stop!”

           “Kids!” Grunkle Dipper yelled and abandoned his spot. “Break it up! Two minutes, I promise!” He hooked his arm around Stanford to bring him back, which just allowed Stanford to let go and gave Stanley a better position to punch him.

          Grauntie Mable dragged Stanley back. “No, no! Come on, enough of this!” she scolded.

          The four froze as Bill appeared before the entrance. He twirled the totem pole from the Mystery Shack in his hand. “ **‘OH NO, IT’S BILL!’ RIGHT? ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU’RE ALL THINKING?** ” He looked at Bud, a slight irritation coming to him. “ **HEY, BUD, WHY AREN’T YOU DANCING? CHOP, CHOP, HUH?** ” He looked over the group and then burst into laughter, dropping the pole and putting a hand to his head as he did so. “ **THIS IS TOO PERFECT! DIDN’T YOU BRAINIACS KNOW THE ZODIAC DOESN’T WORK IF YOU DON’T ALL HOLD HANDS? AND WHAT’S BETTER, YOU’VE BROUGHT EVERY THREAT TO MY POWER TOGETHER IN ONE EASY-TO-DESTROY _CIRCLE!_** ” He waved his hands. A wave of golden fire washed over the ground. Every bit of blue spray paint crackled in flames. People around them yelped and gasped and backed away from the flames- if they could.

          Preston sucked in his breath and patted down his hair as a few strands had caught fire. “My hair!”

          Janice looked up and patted down her hair. “Ah! My hair!”

          Two white glowing arms tipped with four-fingered hands snaked out of the flames and coiled around Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper. The snakish limbs constricted them like boa constrictors, removing all hope of moving beyond a fish-like thrash. The older siblings were torn into the air. “ **YOU WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CAN’T CONTROL YOUR OWN KIDS?** ”

          Fiddleford glowered at him. “Hey! You give them back!”

          Bud piped up, “Yeah! You’ve gone too far, _Cipher!_ ”

          Dan growled in agreement, “We’re not afraid of you!” He whipped out his ax while Fiddleford took out a remote and unhitched a latch on his backpack. Bud merely raised his fists in front of him in a sloppy learned-from-a-Kung-Fu-game stance.

          Bill raised his hand. His pupil contracted. “ **OH, BUT YOU SHOULD BE!** ” He snapped his fingers. Fiddleford, Bud, Dan, Janice, Soos, and Preston shuttered and dropped their hands to their sides. Their pupils elongated and eyes turned yellow and rolled into the back of their heads. Glowing in soft red light, the rag-dolled team was drawn a few yards in the air, all around the triangle. “ **YOU KNOW, THIS CASTLE COULD REALLY USE SOME DECOR _ATIONS!_** ” Bill, eye narrowed in hate, brought up his hands and then whipped them down.

          The six disappeared in a flash of light. They reappeared in the wall behind Bill, behind where his throne had been. They were no longer human. Each one had been turned into ragged tapestries, their symbols beneath them and their eyes and mouths wide in petrified screams.

          Bill glanced at the new horrifying decorations and then looked down at Grunkle Dipper. “ **IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S TOO LATE FOR YOUR FRIENDS, MASON.** ”

          Stanley and Stanford screamed and backed up into each other as four large triangles of tangled blue bars rose out of the ground and snapped together in a cage.

           “KIDS!” Grauntie Mabel screamed, her struggles ceasing immediately.

          Bill went on in a hard voice, “ **BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE YOUR FAMILY. LAST CHANCE: TELL ME HOW TO TAKE WEIRDMAGEDDON GLOBAL AND I’LL SPARE THE KIDS.** ”

          Stanley and Stanford rushed to the end of their cage. Stanford glared at Bill, though he was visibly trembling. “No! Don’t do it!”

          Stanley yelled, “YEAH! He makes horrible deals!”

          Bill whipped around and glared at the kids. He popped up in front of them so close, so suddenly Stanford nearly let go and ran away. Stanley puffed out his chest and glared at him. Bill growled, “ **DON’T TOY WITH ME, MACKEREL. I SEE _EVERYTHIN-!_** ” His eye changed into a picture of the galaxy. Stanley sprayed the can of spray paint Grunkle Dipper had used directly into Bill’s eye. Bill screamed in pain and clamped his hands over his shut eye. “ **OW! NOT AGAIN! WHY?! EVERY TIME!** ”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Nice shot, Hun-bun!” Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper gasped as they were released from their constricting prisons and fell to the ground.

           “ **I JUST REGENERATED THAT EYE!** ”

           “I know that hurts!” Stanley agreed. “Because I’ve accidently done it to myself! Multiple times!”

          As Bill continued to scream in pain, Stanford plucked the flashlight from Stanley’s pocket and grew the cage enough to allow them to escape. Stanley and Stanford hopped out of the cage and ran off into the middle of the room. Stanford yelled, “Save yourselves. Run! We’ve got Bill!”

           “WHAT!?” Grunkle Dipper choked. “That’s a suicide mission!”

           “Trust us,” Stanford called back. “We’ve beat him before…”

           “-and we’ll beat him again!” Stanley announced, took out Grauntie Mabel’s grappling hook, and high-sixed his brother. The two, howling their victory and degrading insults, ran under Bill and to the hallway behind him.

          Bill spun around, his body turning red and white and eye becoming a haunting midnight with a glowing eye pupil.

           “No!” Grauntie Mabel screamed and ran toward them, her brother at her side. “It’s too dangerous!” The older twins were torn back, gagging and holding onto their necks, as they were lifted into the air in an invisible chokehold. They were slammed into the ground. The cage that held the kids melted into the ground and then reappeared in an appropriate size around the older twins.

          Bill, once again yellow, opened his eye and glared at them. “ **NOT SO FAST. YOU TWO WAIT HERE!** ” He turned red, grew six glowing yellow arms, sectioned himself into three pieces, and landed. Jagged teeth sprouted from the pieces of his bottom, middle, and top sections along with a few tongues that matched his midnight black eye. “ **I’VE GOT SOME CHILDREN I NEED TO MAKE INTO CORPSES.** ” His voice became deep and booming. “ ** _SEE YA REAL SOON._** ” With that, Bill turned and skittered into the tunnel, twisting and turning to fit the triangular pathway he’d made for himself.

           “NO!” Grauntie Mabel cried and pounded on the blue bars. “Wait, no! NO! What do we do?! What do we _do?!_ ”

          Grunkle Dipper rattled the bars. “Kids!”

 

          The Stan twins raced through the Fearamid, Bill hot on their heels. Bill swept around a corner the kids took with ease. “ **WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU KIDS, I’M GUNNA _DISSASEMBLE YOUR MOLECULES!_** ” Stanford grabbed Stanley and tugged him to a corner. Bill crashed into a dead end as the kids raced down the new corridor. The kids gasped as they came to a curve in the tunnel- a curve that went straight up. Snarling his vicious hate, Bill clambered to his feet and ran through the tunnel. Stanley popped the grappling hook, grabbed Stanford, and launched themselves up. Bill clapped his hands into the area they had just been. If they were a second later, they’d have been squashed like rotten bananas. “ **YOU’VE TRICKED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!** ”

          Grauntie Mabel sank to the ground and put her hands on her head. “Oh no. The kids are going to die and it was my fault. If I had taken this more seriously… They were right. I’m just a big joke.”

          Grunkle Dipper sighed and sat down next to her. “Don’t blame yourself. I was the one who made a deal with Bill in the first place. I kept the rift a secret from you and offered that damn apprenticeship to Stanford.”

          Grauntie Mabel stared at her feet. “In the Shack… I lost all hope. I thought that since he’d captured you, there was no way we could win. But those kids. They didn’t give up for a second. Even separated, they did their darndest to find each other.”

          Grunkle Dipper made a noise that sounded like a sad laugh. “We used to be like them, once. Brave, ready to take on the world, not caring about the danger. The world’s about to end and all of their friends were practically killed in front of them and they still stood up to that monster. How’d they do it?”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “They’re kids. They don’t know the first thing about danger.” Grunkle Dipper got to his feet. She looked up at him. “Whoa, where are you going?”

          Dipper sighed. “I’m going to play the only card we have left. I’m letting him into my mind. He’ll be able to take over the galaxy, and perhaps even worse, but at least he might let those kids free.”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Are you kidding me? Are you telling me there’s nothing we can do?!”

          Grunkle Dipper turned his gaze from the tunnel the kids had disappeared into to his sister. “Bill’s only weak in the mindscape. Erg. If I didn’t have this dumb plate in my head we could just erase him out of my mind.”

          Grauntie Mabel’s eyebrows knitted together. “What if… what if I let him into my mind? I don’t have a plate in my head.”

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “There’s nothing Bill wants from you, Marbles. It has to be me. It’s the only way he’ll let you and the kids go.”

           “Will he really go through with it?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “What other choice do we have?”

 

          The Stan twins ran down a new tunnel. They screamed and stumbled to a halt as they encountered a dead end. Stanford looked around to find a nonexistent escape route. “I’m starting to believe there’s no escape.”

          Stanley set his gaze and took the flashlight from his brother. “As I like to say: if one door closes, bash in the nearest wall with brute force!” He grew his fist nearly to his brother’s size before bashing in the wall. He shrunk his hand. “Ha- _ha!”_

           “Yes! Let’s round up the townsfolk and def- oh no.” Stanford stopped himself as the two looked over the edge of their only exit. The townsfolk that they’d freed were gathered in a huddle. Bill’s friends had them surrounded.

          Grenda glared at the surrounding demons. “You’ll never take us alive, monsters!”

          Teeth shrugged. “That’s fine with us.” He snapped up Shmebulock in his teeth and tipped his head back. The people gasped as they watched the monster swallow the gnome whole.

          Stanley and Stanford started to take a step back. Then–

           “ **PEEK-A-BOO!** ” They gasped as a yellow floodlight poured over them from behind and lifted them into the air. The kids screamed and thrashed, but to no avail. They were cornered and trapped and certainly marked to die.

 

          Bill, yellow and back in his normal form, reappeared in the main room, Stanley and Stanford gripped tight in his giant fist. “ **ALRIGHT, DIPPER! TIMES UP. I’VE GOT THE KIDS. I THINK I’M GOING TO KILL ONE OF THEM NOW, JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT.** ” He moved his hand so that the fiercely struggling boys were directly before his eye. His pupil turned red and changed into a six-fingered hand. A red floodlight poured over them. “ **EENIE…** ” His eye changed into the symbol of the Holy Mackerel. “ **MENIE…** ” His eye changed back into the six-fingered hand. “ **MIENE!** ” The kids stopped struggling and stared back into his giant eye. “ ** _YOU!_** ” He roared, his pupil turning into the Holy Mackerel. He raised his free hand to snap his fingers.

           “WAIT!”

          Bill’s eye returned to normal and he looked down as Grunkle Dipper called his attention.

          Grunkle Dipper continued in a calmer voice, “I surrender.”

           “ **GOOD CHOICE.** ” He dropped the kids, causing them to land on the probably stone floor with hard _huffs_ and wheezes of aching pain.

          Grauntie Mabel sucked in her breath and turned on him. “No! Don’t! H-he’ll destroy the universe!”

          Grunkle Dipper didn’t look back at her. He stared at Bill with fierce determination. “It’s the only way.” His voice wavered a bit near the end.

          Bill shrunk into his normal size, just about as big as the Stan twins, and floated before the older twins. Bill burst into maniacal, twisted laughter. “ **OH, EVEN WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE, YOU PINES TWINS CAN’T GET ALONG.** ”

          He dropped the cage. Hands burst from the floor, constricted around Grauntie Mabel, and tied her to the floor.

          Grunkle Dipper stood up straight and tall. “My only condition: you let my sister and the boys go.”

           “ **FINE.** ”

          Stanford set a hand beneath him to heave his chest off the ground and held out a hand to his great uncle. “No! Grunkle Dipper! Don’t do it!”

          Grunkle Dipper stepped forward.

           “ **IT’S A… _DEAL!_** ” Bill held out his hand, burning bright in blue flames. Grunkle Dipper took it. The color leeched from the world. Bill’s physical form turned into a stone statue no larger than the Stan twins. Bill’s spirit popped out of the statue and, giggling and laughing, rubbed his hands together and dove at Grunkle Dipper. Grunkle Dipper’s eyes went round as moons and he tensed.

          Everything was white. Bill floated through the perfectly white void. One wooden door stood alone. **“OH I’M HERE. I’M FINALLY HERE! LOOK AT THIS PLACE: A PERFECTLY CALM, ORDERLY VOID. GOTTA HAND IT TO YA, PINE TREE. YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO CLEAR YOUR M** –”

          Bill’s words stopped dead. The triangle demon now floated in the doorway that led to the Mystery Shack’s living room. Grauntie Mabel, humming a sweet song to herself, finished knitting a green confetti sweater. She was back in her old clothes. Instead of long silver waves, her hair was bobbed and didn’t even reach her shoulders. She looked up at him and, with a winning smile, held up the sweater. “KER PRANK’D” dressed the front of it.

           “ ** _WHAT?!_** ” Bill shrieked.

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “I do a pretty cool impression of my bro-bro, don’t I? Switch clothes, add a bit of Mabel flare, and no one can tell us apart.” She waved an arm. “Welcome to my mindscape! I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it, honestly.”

          In the Fearamid, the real Grunkle Dipper was free. He stood in front of his kneeling sister. He took off the hot pink, shooting star fez on his head. Feet of silver, wavy hair bundled up in a ponytail slipped down his shoulders and onto the floor. Stanley plucked the fez off the ground in one hand and the hair in the other. He stared down at the objects, eyebrows contracted and nose scrunched as if he couldn’t understand what was in his hands.

          Dipper took out the memory gun from the navy-blue trench coat Grauntie Mabel wore. “MABEL PINES” glowed in cold green letters. He pointed the shaking gun directly at her forehead. Bluish white lights sparked and blazed in the light bulb. Grunkle Dipper turned his head.

          Within the mindscape, Bill waved his arms in a clear ‘no’ fashion. “ **WHAT?** **DEAL’S OFF!** ” He spun around. The door shut so hard it trembled. Then, it burst into electric blue flames. Bill watched as the fire rapidly burned through her mind. “ **WHAT THE… NO, NO, NO, NO!** ” Flames engulfed the walls and licked the ceiling.

          Grauntie Mabel reclined in her old chair. “Yep. You’re going down, Bill. You’re getting erased.” She opened one eye and smiled. “Memory gun. Pretty clever, don’t you think?”

           “ **Y-YOU IDIOT!** ” Bill sputtered. The walls started to blur and go gray. “ **DON’T YOU REALIZE YOU’RE DESTROYING YOUR OWN MIND, TOO?!** ”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Yeah. That was kinda the point.”

          Bill looked about. “ **LET ME OUTTA HERE! LET ME _OUT!_** ” He spun around to face the door and shoved his hand forward. Weak blue tongues of flame tickled his fingers but soon went out. He put his hands on either side of his ‘head’. “ **WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!** ”

          Calm as could be, Grauntie Mabel set down her new sweater and pushed herself up. “Hey, demon. Look at me.” She stepped forward. “Turn around and look at me!” Bill, shivering and on his knees, looked back at her. “You’re a pretty clever guy, but you made one mistake.” Her smug smile vanished. “You messed with my family.”

          The fire crept forward.

          Bill hopped up. “ **YOU’RE MAKING A MISTAKE! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING!** ” His eye grew black and his pupil flashed through different images. First, it was a dollar sign, then a star, a pot of gold, and a galaxy. “ **MONEY! FAME! RICHES! INFINITE POWER! YOUR OWN GALAXY! _PLEASE!_** ” Bill bent over and started to melt. Fighting off the inevitable, he violently shifted from one form to the next, each one melting and crumbling. “ **NO! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!** ” His words turned into utter nonsense. “ ** _!NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I! NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM! L-T-O-L-O-X-A_** ” Bill returned to a vague form of his original self and held out a melting hand toward her. “ **MABEEEEEL!** ”

          Grauntie Mabel, her eyes glowing in the swirling firelight, twisted her body back, curled her fingers up to expose the palm of her hand, and stepped forward. She struck him straight in the eye with all her might. He shattered into a million pieces, each piece consumed by the pretty blue flames.

          Grauntie Mabel, huffing, turned around. On the burning nightstand sat a picture of her family. She couldn’t recall the time it was taken. She couldn’t remember the occasion. Whatever it was, it must have been a blast. One arm around Stanford and another around Stanley, she bared as many teeth as she could in a giant smile. Waddles poked his head into the picture. Gompers struggled to get attention from Stanford. The two boys, though pretending to be annoyed at such a big hug, laughed and bared their teeth in ecstatic smiles. Mabel picked up the photo frame. Fire danced up her body and played with her hair and fingers. She nearly matched the look in the photo. “Love you, too, kids.” She closed her eyes. The fire washed over her completely.

 

          Outside, the brilliant blue, electric light that connected the memory gun to Mabel faded. The memory gun’s light went out as the deed was done.

          _Clang._

          Grunkle Dipper’s arms fell to his sides. The memory gun glinted innocently on the ground by his feet. He, like the two boys behind him, stared at the unconscious woman they’d all come to love. Above them, the tapestries shuttered and popped. Soos, Bud, Dan, Preston, Fiddleford, and Janice fell in a heap on the ground nearby.

          Outside, the corrupted world shuttered and bent. The rift grew wider. Monsters and demons and the weirdness Bill had created and anything else the foul demon touched was torn out of the ground and sucked up into the rift. Demons screamed and flailed and tore into anything they could get their paws, hands, or bodies on in the futile hope of staying. The townspeople that had been rounded up in a circle stared up as their captors floated up into the ugly rip in the sky. Teeth hit his own lower jaw. Shmebulock fell into Deputy Durland’s arms. The Fearamid broke apart and, piece by piece, it, too, was sucked into the Nightmare Realm. The rip shuttered and shrunk. It shrank until the rift was sealed.

          A wave passed over the town and surrounding area. Trees burst into leaves and branches. Animals bleated and cried and scampered back to their original places. Buildings reformed and fires hissed out of existence. The sky blazed blue and clouds reflected white. Summoned entities native to Earth, like Rumble McSkirmish, simply dissolved. The townsfolk watched as their ruined nightmare turned into a pleasant dream.

          Somewhere in the forest, Bill’s physical statue form, hand outstretched, sat half buried and covered in moss and vegetation. A bird fell onto one of his outstretched fingers and chirped a merry tune.

 

          Leaves and birdsong flew through the forest on a strong wind. In a forest clearing, Grauntie Mabel sat on her knees, head bent and hands brushing the ground. Grunkle Dipper’s navy-blue overcoat draped over her shoulders and legs and slithered to the ground like tumbling storm clouds. She wavered as the wind played with her six-inch long hair. Her eyes gazed into the void she felt herself in. As the last of her memory and any traces of Bill burned away and she was left with nothing, not even the knowledge of her own name, her consciousness struggled to return to the real world.

           “Oh-ho my gosh! Grauntie Mabel, you did it!” Stanley cried as he, Stanford, and Grunkle Dipper entered the clearing. Stanley set her pink, shooting star fez on her head. Stanford and Grunkle Dipper did not approach her. Grauntie Mabel blinked and sat up straight. Stanley grinned as her gaze turned on him.

           “Oh! Hey, there, kid!” She set her hands on his wrist. A bright smile crept across her features. “Who are you?”

          Stanley let go of her. His smile fell. “Uh, wh-what? Grauntie Mabel?”

          Grauntie Mabel’s grin softened. She looked behind herself and then back at him, as if to see if there was a “Grauntie Mabel” behind her. “Uh, who are you talking to?”

          Grunkle Dipper came up to stand behind Stanford and Stanley. Stanley shook his head. “Come on, it’s me! It’s me, Grauntie! You kn-know me!” Stanford struggled to drag him back.

           “I’m sorry!” Grauntie Mabel’s smile left her entirely. Genuine confusion and guilt replaced the curiosity she once held. Though, to her, anything and everything was dipped into a fog. Her gaze started to become unfocused again as she slipped from their reality.

          Grunkle Dipper put a hand on his shoulder. “We had to erase her mind to defeat Bill.” Grunkle Dipper’s morose gaze fell on the very confused woman on the ground before them. “There’s nothing left. She doesn’t know it, but she saved us all.” Grunkle Dipper got down on one knee in front of Mabel. “She saved me. You’re our hero, Mabel.” Grunkle Dipper’s words started to shake near the end. He wrapped his arms around her and sniffled. Stanford hugged Stanley and, though the two struggled to keep tears at bay, the haunting feeling of misery choked them both.

 

          Stanford, his grip on Stanley’s hand still tight, led them back to the Mystery Shack. Grunkle Dipper held an arm around Grauntie Mabel’s shoulders as to guide her. They had switched clothes again. Grunkle Dipper’s navy-blue overcoat fluttered in the wind and covered most of his silver turtleneck. Grauntie Mabel’s shooting star sweater dressed her. Fiddleford held her hand.

          As they walked, Stanford picked up a Mrs. Mystery bobblehead. When they got to the door of the heap of broken wood and missing shingles, it wouldn’t open. Stanford let go of Stanley long enough to ram into it a few times to push it over. He took Stanley’s hand again. Waddles and Gompers, who had been on the sagging porch, joined them as they walked through the haunting echo that was once their home. Grunkle Dipper and Fiddleford let go so that Stanley and Stanford could lead her into their broken living room.

          Grauntie Mabel, now conscious enough to take in her surroundings, looked about her ruined home. “Heh. N-nice place you have here.”

          Stanley nodded. “Y-yeah! It’s your home!”

           “It’s your place!” Stanford agreed.

           “Don’t you remember? Even a little?” Stanley pressed.

           “No, I’m sorry.” When they let go of her, Grauntie Mabel wandered over to the couch and sat down. She closed her eyes with a  small sigh. She looked about and then turned to them. “But, uh, heh. This couch is nice.” She opened her eyes to Grunkle Dipper, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford gathered in the living room. They stared at her as if seeing a dead woman rather than an amnesiac. “Hey, hey!” She sat up straight. “What’s wrong?” She smiled. “You guys look like you’re at a funeral!”

          Stanford put a hand on his head. “She saved the world, but what’s the point? Grauntie Mabel isn’t herself, anymore.”

           “There’s gotta be something we can do to jog her memory!” Stanley exclaimed.

           “I’m sorry,” Grunkle Dipper denied. “Mabel’s gone.” He flinched at the very words.

           “No!” Stanley snapped. “I know she’s in there somewhere! There’s gotta be somethin’ to bring her back.” Grunkle Dipper did not counter him. It was futile. Stanley was just as bullheaded as any man Stanford knew. If an idea came to him, if a hope came to him, there was nothing the world could do to rob him of it. He’d hunt for years if the slightest hope was in his head, no matter how impossible it might be. Grauntie Mabel could be dead and he wouldn’t give up.

          There was nothing in the living room of remote importance. Stanley, a whimper replacing his breathing, jumped onto Grauntie Mabel’s lap and hugged her. Grauntie Mabel hugged him back. “I’m sorry, kid, I… don’t cry, please.” She shut her eyes. “You’re a good kid. You and your brothers.”

           “Brother,” Stanley corrected. “Stanford’s my bro and Fiddleford’s our best friend. Sorta!”

          Stanford approached her. She took him in her arms, too. “Y-yeah! Everyone thinks we’re brothers, though. We’re best friends! Hehe. Well, we _were_.”

          Stanley smirked at Stanford and Fiddleford. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you _will_ be my bro!”

          Fiddleford shyly approached her. “A-and you act like family, too.”

          Grunkle Dipper set his hand on her shoulder. “You… you’re my sister.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked up at him. “You’re my brother?”

          Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yeah. A lousy one at that.”

          Grauntie Mabel frowned and took his arm. “Hey, hey! Don’t say that! You look like a nice gentleman. You like these kids. You can’t be that lousy if they like you back.”

          Grunkle Dipper smiled and chuckled. “You always were the more forgiving one.”

          Fiddleford looked at the TV, and then at Grauntie Mabel. “You know, when we planned stuff, you really liked to listen to music and sing.”

          Stanley chuckled. “A-and sometimes you’d sing songs for no reason.”

           “And sometimes to annoy me,” Grunkle Dipper agreed, though there was no bitterness in his voice.

           “Really? Well, what songs?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Fiddleford piped up, “You really like All Star.”

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled, “That’s only because she teases me with it.”

           “And Taking Back Midnight,” Stanford pointed out.

           “Don’t Start Un-Believing,” Stanley listed off.

          Fiddleford darted off. After a few minutes, he came back, dragging behind him Grauntie Mabel’s glittery pink karaoke machine. “I-I forgot the lyrics. But they’re on here!” He set it up so that the screen faced them. It sputtered to life. Fiddleford changed a few songs until he got to All Star. He gave the first mic to Grunkle Dipper, the second to Stanley and Stanford, gave the third to Grauntie Mabel, and held the fourth one. He pressed a button. Grauntie Mabel grinned as the music started playing.

          Fiddleford started them off, _“Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me.”_

          Stanley and Stanford joined in. _“I ain’t the sharpest tool in the she-ed.”_

          Grunkle Dipper added his voice to make it a quartet. _“She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb,_

          _“In the shape of an ‘L’ on her forehead.”_

          The four continued to sing one of Grauntie Mabel’s “favorite” songs.

          Finally, they got to one of the parts that Grauntie Mabel always got so passionate over. Surprisingly, she joined in. _“Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play!_

          _“Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid!_

          _“And all that glitters is go-o-old,_

          _“Only shooting stars break the mo-o-old!”_ Grauntie Mabel took off her fez and put it on Grunkle Dipper’s head, causing them both to laugh.

          Their song continued for quite some time. Just like when Stanford raised the dead, their singing forced their terror away. Now it fought away their dread and grief.

          _“It’s a cool place and they say it gets colder._

          _“You’re bundled up now, wait till you get older!_

          _“But the meteor men beg to differ,_

          _“Judging by the hole in the satellite picture._

          _“The ice we skate is getting pretty thin,_

          _“The water’s getting warm so you might as well swim._

          _“My world’s on fire, how about yours?_

          _“That’s the way I like it and I never get bored.”_

          A small break in the song gave them time to breath. Grauntie Mabel hugged the twins on her lap and ruffled Fiddleford’s hair.

          _“Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play!_

          _“Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid!_

          _“All that glitters is go-o-old,_

          _“Only shooting stars break the mo-o-old!”_ Grunkle Dipper put the shooting star fez back on Grauntie Mabel’s head.

          Eventually, the song ended. Grauntie Mabel immediately requested to play another song. So, they sang and laughed until the family got hungry. Grunkle Dipper left to cook a “surprise” for them. When he did, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford chattered on and on about their summer vacation.

           “Then we went out to find the Gobblewonker!” Stanford informed her with a nod.

           “But it nearly killed us,” Fiddleford pointed out.

           “But it didn’t because we beat it!” Stanley exclaimed.

          Stanford nodded. “Then we found out it was fake.”

          Fiddleford explained, “We found it was Candy Chiu who had made and controlled it. She just wanted attention from her son.”

          Stanford smiled. “That’s when we agreed that leaving you for mysteries was pretty dumb.”

           “And then we joined you out in the water and had a blast!” Stanley agreed.

           “My!” Grauntie Mabel laughed. “That’s quite the adventure! Do you have these types of adventures often?”

          Stanford chuckled. “More than we used to tell you.”

          Stanley nodded. “You said you didn’t believe in the supernatural, so we didn’t really tell you about our adventures. But then we found out you actually did, but you were lying about it so that we wouldn’t get in trouble chasing after them. You said it was too dangerous.”

           “You were kind of right,” Stanford agreed.

           “Very right!” Fiddleford cut it. “It was very dangerous.”

          The Stan twins laughed. Stanley jabbed a thumb at Fiddleford. “He’s always been the cautious one. He makes sure we don’t get in over our heads.”

           “Try to,” Fiddleford pointed out, though he couldn’t lose his smile.

           “We thought we could handle the danger,” Stanley began again. “That was, until we me-” Stanley cut himself off. The mood in the room dampened quite a bit. “Er… that was, until things got dangerous.”

           “Met who?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          The three looked at each other. Stanford said in heavy voice, “Bill.”

           “Bill,” Stanley growled. “Of everything we ever met, he was the absolute worst.”

           “He tried going into your mind,” Stanford replied. “He tried stealing the code to the safe with the deed to the Shack in it.”

          Stanley nodded. “We followed him into your mind to defeat him!”

           “But it wasn’t easy,” Stanford pointed out.

          Fiddleford shivered. His eyes welled up in tears. “He could make people see their worst nightmares.”

          Grauntie Mabel leaned over and pulled Fiddleford in for a hug. “Hush, Fiddle. You’re okay, now.”

          Fiddleford sniffled and looked up at her. “Wh-what?”

          She smiled and opened her eyes. “I said that you’re okay. You guys said he was gone. I’d rather lose my own sanity than let anyone lay a finger on you three.”

          The three became absolutely ecstatic. Fiddleford hugged Grauntie Mabel as hard as he could. “Th-thank you, Mrs.- Mabel.”

          Stanford managed to ask, “Wh-what did you call him?”

           “Fiddle,” Mabel replied. “You know, because Fiddleford takes so long to say.”

          Stanley tipped his head back, “GRUNKLE DIPPER! GRUNKLE DIPPER!”

          Grunkle Dipper raced into the living room. “What? What happened?!”

          Stanford and Stanley turned to him. Stanley laughed, “Grauntie Mabel just called him Fiddle! She remembered his nick-name! She remembered his nick-name!”

          Grunkle Dipper ran to her side in an instant. “Oh my gosh, Mabel…” Grunkle Dipper blinked away the tears of joy that attempted to creep up on him. “You remembered… Mabel? Wh-what’s my name?”

           “Did you forget it, too?” Grauntie Mabel looked up at him in surprise.

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “N-no. Did you remember?”

           “Dipper?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Yeah.” Something beeped in the kitchen. He turned his head around so quickly it was a surprise it didn’t snap. He raced into the kitchen without another word spoken. This caused them to laugh.

          Stanford chuckled, “He never does cook.”

           “You always did,” Stanley agreed. “You said you loved cooking.”

           “Mostly baking,” Stanford agreed.

          Fiddleford nodded. “Y-yeah. You loved cookies.”

           “And hot-cocoa,” Stanley agreed.

           “You said hot chocolate and cookies was the best cure-all,” Stanford agreed. “You never told us the secret ingredient to your cookies, though. We don’t know how to make home-made, Mabel approved hot-cocoa. So, we can’t make them.”

           “Maybe we still have some in the fridge?” Stanley guessed.

          Stanford shrugged. “We might have eaten them. Or you! You love to sneak cookies!”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed and ruffled Stanley’s hair. “You little rascal!”

          The three weren’t too hesitant to launch into their next story- the one where they got attacked by gnomes. At the time, Fiddleford had been too shy to talk to them too often. Thus, the Mystery Twins were just a duo. They wouldn’t be a trio until later.

          Eventually, Grunkle Dipper poked his head into the living room. “Dinner’s ready!”

          The kids jumped off her and ran into the kitchen. Fiddleford took Grauntie Mabel by the hand and led this time. Grunkle Dipper stood by the dinner table, a nervous grin on his features. Dinner looked… like Grunkle Dipper made it. It was a full chicken–as pork wasn’t allowed on the premises and they were out of beef–that bore dark spots- especially at the bottom. Mashed potatoes and gravy stayed as a side dish. Water, orange juice, and Mabel Juice sat happily on the table.

          Grauntie Mabel laughed as she sat down. “Are you sure you cooked the chicken long enough?”

          Grunkle Dipper shrugged as he sat down. “Maybe. I’m not the best cook, admittedly.”

          Stanley was the first to take a piece of the dry, nearly burnt chicken, followed by Fiddleford and then Stanford.

           “What’s this?” Grauntie Mabel prompted as she turned the container of Mabel Juice around to look at the container.

           “Mabel Juice,” Grunkle Dipper replied. “I expect the recipe hasn’t changed in over thirty years. You’re the same old person I knew as a kid, Marbles.”

          Grauntie Mabel poured herself a glass of the pink drink sparkling with glitter and flecked by plastic dinosaurs. One of the dinosaurs ended up in her drink.

          Stanley held up a glass of orange juice. “For the defeat of Bill!”

          Stanford raised his glass of water. “For our hero: Grauntie Mabel!”

          Everyone else raised their glasses. “Amen!”

 

          After dinner, Stanley raided the fridge. Unfortunately, the cookies were gone. Evidently, Stanley _had_ snuck the last few cookies one night. That or they were eaten by one of the dozens of stragglers Candy Chiu brought in during Weirdmaggedon. Even though Stanley remembered he probably knew the recipe for the cookies, they didn’t have enough ingredients.

          Stanford listened to Stanley as he talked about the sweaters Grauntie Mabel liked to make. The sudden memory of seeing half a sweater in her closet popped into his head. “Oh! Grauntie Mabel! You really love knitting sweaters. Well, I think you left one unfinished. Maybe you can finish it now!”

           “Oh, really? Let me see it!” Grauntie Mabel sat up straight.

          Stanford hopped off her lap and ran into her room. He gently picked up the half-made, deep blue sweater with the ancient yard still attached to it. He picked up knitting needles in one of the drawers and made his way back to the living room. Stanley slipped off her lap and stood next to her. Stanford set the half-finished sweater on her lap. “I don’t know the symbol you wanted on it, but it looks like an arrow or a spear or something.”

          Grauntie Mabel held up the sweater and inspected it. There was a pocket lining the bottom of the sweater. Then, quite suddenly, Grauntie Mabel hugged it and burst into tears. Stanford gasped and bit his tongue. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–!”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head and hugged it tighter. “I-I love it. I don’t- don’t know why, but I do.” She pushed it back to arm’s length. “That’s a tree. Like- like a pine tree.”

          Grunkle Dipper’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that…? You still have that.”

          Stanley looked up at Grunkle Dipper. “Have what? What is it?”

           “That’s the sweater,” Grunkle Dipper stated. “It’s the sweater she was making before I kicked her out- before the portal incident. She wasn’t done with mine when I told her to go visit our parents. She’s kept it after all this time.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked up at him and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “What- what do you mean? What happened?”

          Grunkle Dipper sighed. “We got in a fight. I had trusted Bill and made a deal with him. My portal was going to let him into this world and make _this_ happen, just sooner and without the people required for the Zodiac. I grew really paranoid and told you to leave with everything you had without telling you why. We got in a fight and… I fell into the portal. You spent thirty years after that trying to bring me back. But through it all, you kept that one sweater.”

           “Because I was making it to celebrate your victory,” Grauntie Mabel agreed and looked at it. “It was going to be made with pockets because I knew you’d need them. And it was your favorite color and it was going to be a pine tree. It was going to be cold here so I made it extra thick and cozy.” She ran her fingers over the fabric. “Then the collar would have your name on it. The back would have your favorite constellation.” She put a hand on her head. “Ugh. I have a headache, now.”

           “You were always very creative,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “Much more than me. Heh. When we made all of the ‘Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained’ videos, I’d count on you to draw everything.”

          The three kids decided to leave Grunkle Dipper and Mabel alone as Grunkle Dipper brought out her many, many scrapbooks and their old “Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained” tapes. “God. You have them all.” Grunkle Dipper’s eyes watered. “Even your first scrapbook Mom helped you make when we were eight. You still have all our old mystery tapes.”

          The kids hung around outside. Fiddleford waved goodbye as his grandfather picked him up. Stanley and Stanford sat outside, looking through all three journals.

          Stanford found the page over unicorns. “Do you think she’s going to get her memories back?”

          Stanley looked up at him. “Of course! What are you talkin’ about?”

          Stanford sighed. “‘Old Woman’ Chiu went crazy after using the memory gun too much. She’s regained a lot of her memory, but she’s still a bit… off. Do you think that will happen to Grauntie Mabel?”

          Stanley shook his head. “Nah, man. She’s gunna be just fine.”

          That night, as Stanford and Stanley went to bed, they found Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel sleeping in the living room, Grauntie Mabel leaning on Grunkle Dipper’s shoulder and Grunkle Dipper’s cheek pressed against her head. Stanford threw a blanket over the two of them before they went to bed. The attic held them up surprisingly well. Still, Stanley didn’t push his luck by jumping on the bed. Stanford scribbled down the day before going to bed.

 

          The next day, people around the town and monsters in the forest flocked their house, led by none other than Fiddleford McGucket. Wood, nails, hammers, shingles, and everything in-between over their shoulders or on repair and building equipment heavy and light were with them. Candy Chiu was the operator of the mission to fix up the house. She, with the help of lumberjacks like “Tough Girl” Wendy, repairmen like Soos and Fiddleford, and construction workers, and financial support from Pacifica Northwest, took the plans for the house from Grunkle Dipper and rebuilt it, almost from scratch.

          Fiddleford, dressed up in a hard hat and some shiny yellow clothes, grinned at the Pines family as they gathered outside. “We’ll be taking your stuff outside for you. In the meantime, the local hotel rented out the best room they had for you guys with no charge. Or you could stay at my house or anywhere. ‘Tough Girl’ Wendy says she has a log cabin you all can stay in for a while. ‘Lazy’ Susan says she’s donatin’ meals for you. Everyone’s very grateful and very happy to accommodate you.”

          Grunkle Dipper got down on one knee. “You are a special kid, Fiddleford. Thank you.”

          A pinkish tinge came to his cheeks. Fiddleford chuckled. “Well, Mabel’s a hero. I didn’t really have to say anythin’ to get them ta help. The whole town loves you guys.”

 

          In the meantime, Stanford and Stanley led them around the town. Stanford gestured to Greasy’s Diner. “We go there sometimes. One time, you and Stanley said I wasn’t manly at all. So, I tried to beat this manly tester and sort of failed. Then I trained with the manotaurs!”

          Stanley nodded. “You told me about how you knew a kid who was a wimp like him.”

          Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “She was talking about me. I _was_ the biggest wimp on the playground.”

          Stanley looked up at the theater as they passed it. “Or when I made that Sock Opera because I was trying to outdo someone and Stanford got possessed by Bill.”

          Stanford scowled. “Yes. There’s no way I can forget that.”

          Grunkle Dipper looked at him in surprise. “You were–?”

           “Yeah,” Stanford answered. “I was trying to get the password to this laptop I thought was yours. It was Mrs. Chiu’s. I thought by getting into it, I could discover who the author was. Stanley said he’d help me, but he ended up getting into a competition against this puppet guy.”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I was kind of dumb.”

           “Kinda?” Stanford scoffed. “Anyway, long story short, Bill tricked me and destroyed the laptop. He tried getting the journal, too, but Stanley beat him up. Ugh. I couldn’t walk for a week after that!”

           “And you nearly killed us,” Stanley agreed and looked up at Grauntie Mabel. “You thought we were fighting for real and I… kinda went a bit far. So, you made me clean up the mess we made almost by myself. You made sure there was always someone with Ford until he was better.”

           “You were always looking after us,” Stanford agreed. “When we were attacked by Gideon, you launched yourself out of a window above a cliff to stop him.”

           “Or when you ran over the Summerween Trickster to stop him from eating us,” Stanley agreed. “But then the Trickster jumped on your truck and we crashed through the store! When you were trying to give us time to leave and to destroy the Trickster as it ate Fidds, he knocked you out!”

           “Or during the zombie attack and you took on an entire horde of zombies,” Stanford agreed.

          Stanley laughed. “Or when you punched a pterodactyl in the face because it stole Gompers!”

          Grunkle Dipper looked at his sister and then his nephews. “She really did all that?”

          The twins nodded. “Yep.”

          Stanford went on, “She’s the most selfless person we know.”

           “And one of the nicest,” Stanley agreed. “She’s much nicer than Dad. When I tried stealing cookies, she didn’t really punish me like I thought she would. Instead, she made me help her bake more. When she found out I really like cooking, she didn’t tease me. Instead, she taught me how to cook!”

          Quite suddenly, a scowl came to Grauntie Mabel. “Your father really is too hard on you kids. No matter what he says, you’d be much better off in a more supportive household.”

          The Stan twins looked up at her in shock. Grunkle Dipper was quick to ask, “Really? Now, who’s their father again?”

           “Filbrick! Tyrone’s oldest son,” Grauntie Mabel huffed. “Tyrone was such an awesome baby brother and a really good dad. Filbrick’s a 1960’s cinderblock with glasses. Honestly, he needs to loosen up a bit and be more supportive of the boys. Stanley likes cooking and if he wasn’t told it was a girl’s _chore_ he’d be much happier.” She continued her rant for a good few minutes before burning out. “Any time we go to family meetings he always gives me this sideways stare like he’s judging me.” She huffed and then looked about her. They had stopped moving as Grauntie Mabel seethed. “Oh, no. Uh… That’s your dad I’m talking about.” She put a hand on the back of her neck. “Uh, I’m sorry.”

          Stanley shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

          Stanford thought for a moment. “You know, we never really knew Fiddleford’s mom, either.”

           “The deadbeat,” she agreed dryly.

           “But we did meet his grandfather.”

           “Oh, yes! Him!” Grauntie Mabel perked up. “Such a nice man. He really does take care of Fiddleford very well. He’s also really good at making sugar cookies. Too bad he never adds glitter. Glitter makes everything better.”

           “What about Mrs. Chui?” Stanford prompted.

           “Candy? Oh, she’s the sweetest thing. Such a good mom,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “We talked over mail for a very long time. She always talked to me about how well her son was growing up.”

          Grunkle Dipper looked down at Stanford and nodded. He turned back to his sister. “Do you remember… Mermando?”

          Grauntie Mabel stared at him. “Mermando?”

           “The merman,” Grunkle Dipper clarified.

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “I knew a merman? Oooooh, please tell me he was one of those cute one! The legends are true, right?”

          Grunkle Dipper rolled his eyes. “You’d never shut up about his three mustache hairs when you two were thirteen.”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Oh, that must have been so exciting! Where is this Mermando anyway?”

           “The Gulf of Mexico,” Grunkle Dipper explained. “You two broke up after two or three months as he got married to the manatee princess to stop a war, I think.”

          Grauntie Mabel lost her smile. “Oh, man. That must of have been rough. Did we take it well?”

           “I did. I never really liked him,” Grunkle Dipper admitted. “You were pretty devastated for a while.”

           “Aw, man. A merman boyfriend sounds cool,” Grauntie Mabel lamented. “Anyway, what other adventures did we have? Did I get to come along on some of them?”

          When they got home, people had packed up what the Pines would need, and some things that they’d want, in Mabel’s RV- the Pines Mabile. Fiddleford stopped before the Stan twins and held out a purple book with pink writing. “SUMMER MEMORIES”. “Ah found it in the attic, under a broken shelf.”

          Stanley gasped and snatched it. “Oh my gosh! The scrapbook Grauntie Mabel gave me! Thanks, dude!” He punched Fiddleford in the shoulder, causing Fiddleford to hiss in pain and hold his arm with a strained smile, and held up the scrapbook for his great aunt. “Right before everything bad happened, you gave me this! You recorded everything you knew we did this summer and you let me add something to it and then gave it to me so I could start my own scrapbook collection.”

          Grauntie Mabel gently took it from him. “Really?” She opened it and looked through a few pages. “Well, you’re going to have to explain what happened in all of these.”

           “You got it!” Stanley grinned and held onto her.

          Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Well, that sounds great! Let’s go grab some lunch and sit down in that hotel room for a while. Thank you again, Fiddleford.”

          As the town and the monster community outside helped repair the house of their heroes, the Pines wandered through memory lane. Grauntie Mabel picked up bits and pieces of the life the memory gun burned away. It was slow-going, of course. Some memories were instantaneous.

           “That party!” Grauntie Mabel laughed. “I remember that! You hated your suits, but I thought you both looked adorable!”

          Some memories were slow to come.

           “What do you mean ‘Mystery Fair’? Did I host a fair?”

          Still, they spent weeks working with her, patient as could be. When their house had been repaired, they moved right back in. In celebration, Stanley taught Mabel how to bake cookies and they made enough for the whole crew to have a few of the glittery confections.

          Sometimes, they’d take breaks from the scrapbooks and videos to play. Stanley and Stanford got to team up against Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel in a water war.

          Stanley chucked a water balloon straight at Dipper’s face. He ducked. It ended up hitting the back of Mabel’s head. Her neck-length hair was immediately soaked. “Hey!” She chucked a pink balloon at Stanley. It narrowly missed.

          Stanford caught Grunkle Dipper on the shoulder. “Gotcha!”

          Grunkle Dipper reciprocated with a feign. When Stanford went to the left to avoid a right hit, Grunkle Dipper changed and hit him square in the chest. “Got you back!”

          Grauntie Mabel plucked two more out of a bucket of water and let out a war howl before pelting Stanley and Stanford. The kids grabbed their own and the water war went fierce- that was, until the twin boys ran out of water balloons on their side.

          Stanley and Stanford backed into a corner, defenseless and soaked. Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel held the last four water balloons. Grauntie Mabel lifted her pink and purple ones. “Are you ready to surrender?”

          Stanley and Stanford looked at each other.

           “Well…” Stanley started with a smirk. “I’d say we are but…”

           “NOW!” Stanford yelled.

          Their great aunt and uncle hesitated and then looked up. Dan and Fiddleford stood on the roof, both buckets half full of water and flecked with scraps of broken water balloons in their hands. The older twins were completely soaked in seconds. Their own balloons hit the ground at their feet and exploded.

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Hey! Cheaters!” She grabbed the hose and pointed up. The boys on the roof laughed and ran off. “Get back here!”

          Grunkle Dipper rubbed his face and spat out some chilled water before following her.

          Stanley and Stanford stopped under the roof again and held out their hands. Dan dropped two super soakers full of water down for the boys to catch. Candy, equally as sneaky as the boys helping the Stan twins, passed water guns to her best friend and her former partner.

          This is what summer was supposed to be- dumb things forever. Pelting each other with water balloons, chasing each other with squirt guns, eating frozen treats under the hot sun, and laughing with friends and family. As the day winds to an end, reading stories and munching on cookies and falling asleep in the middle of a cheesy movie. That summer, despite the atrocities that happened not a week and a half prior, the boys had the best time of their lives. In Grunkle Dipper’s case, the best time in over thirty years. For Grauntie Mabel? The fastest and most fun recovery she could imagine with two of the greatest great nephews she could ever hope for.

 

          The late August sun sent rays of life over Gravity Falls. A woodpecker hopped onto the repaired “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign. A gnome popped up and ate it.

          Shandra Jimenez, somewhere on the news, spoke. “Good morning, Gravity Falls. It’s another beautiful day. But every day is beautiful now that the… unpleasantness is over.”

          Around town, people painted over, scratched out, wiped up, or burned Bill propaganda and terrified cries for help and Blind Eye symbols. People helped each other out and celebrated the grand day.

          Robbie Valentino and Tambry Valentino wandered the cemetery. Zombies tried to claw their way out of the ground, but the funeral directors simply pushed them back down. Another zombie grabbed Tambry’s leg as she pushed one into the ground. Robbie chuckled. “Oh! Looks like someone likes you!”

          Tambry chuckled. “Janice! Do you mind getting us the sawed-off shotgun?”

          Janice groaned, “Ugh, fine! Whatever.” She wheeled around and stalked off to their house.

          The former mayor, Mayor Befufftlefumpter, popped out of the ground. “Brains, and so forth.”

          Tambry pushed him under the ground. “Nope. None of that, thank you.” She and her husband laughed.

          Tyler stood on stage before the townspeople. “None of us really understand what just happened, and none of us want to. That’s why I’m passing the: ‘Never Mind All That’ Act. If anyone goes asking around about the ‘events’ of the last few days, what do we say?” A large banner yelling “NEVER MIND ALL THAT” dropped down above the stage.

          The crowd yelled in unison, “Never mind all that!”

          Sherriff Blubbs, who flanked the mayor with Deputy Durland, announced, “And if you break the rules, we’re gunna zap you.”

          Deputy Durland waved his tasers around. “Zap! Zap! We’re mad with power!”

          Then, the Sherriff and Deputy dropped their lasers and grabbed each other’s faces. “And love.”

          Shandra Jimenez continued, “In other news, the Northwest family has gone broke. After pledging his allegiance to Bill and then placing all of his savings in weirdness bonds, Auldman Northwest had to sell his mansion to preserve his family fortune. But, fortunes have turned for local maniac, Candy Chiu who, after regaining her sanity, has made millions overnight submitting her patents to the US government.”

          Outside the dump, Mrs. Chiu stood before a news camera. “I’m gunna buy a bigger house!” She looked back at the giant hill and pointed to it. “Hey, that’s for sale!”

           “In other good news, town hero, Mabel Pines, has fully recovered her memory and will be throwing a party to celebrate her nephews’ thirteenth birthday and final day in town. But other than that, I can safely say our beloved Gravity Falls is back to normal. And now, Bodacious T. with sports.”

          Thompson Determined, holding a bat, slammed a skull onto the counter of the news room. “It’s called: Death Ball.”

 

          In front of the Mystery Shack, standing beneath the mid noon sun and surrounded by family, friends, citizens, and party supplies, were Stanley and Stanford. They flanked a giant cake on the stage used to show off their wax creation. Their great aunt and uncle and the friends they met along the way stood by them.

           “…to you!” the crowd sang and cheered.

          Stanley looked about, his semi-permanent grin showing in his voice. “I-I can’t believe you threw this for us.”

          Stanford, still in shock, nodded. “Yeah.”

          Mayor Tyler spoke up, “After all the Pines family has done for the town, it’s the least we could do. You’ve helped everyone here.”

          Bud, standing by his father, grinned. “Thanks to ya’ll savin’ us, I’m gunna learn to open my heart to kindness.”

           “No more evil-doin’,” Gideon promised. “From now on, we’re gunna to be Gideon and Bud–”

           “Normal townsfolk!”

          Fiddleford buzzed with excitement. “Make a wish!”

          Stanford intertwined his fingers in front of him. “You know, on my first day here, if you’d asked me what I wanted, I’d say: adventure, mystery, anomalies, friends. But, heh, looking around I realized everything came true.”

           “If I had only one wish,” Stanley declared in a much more rambunctious voice, “I’d shrink you all with a shrink ray and bring you back home. But since that’s impossible-” he hesitated and looked at his great uncle. “That’s impossible, right?”

          Grunkle Dipper leveled his hand.

           “Since that’s _probably_ impossible,” Stanley began again and held out his scrapbook. “I want everyone to sign my brand-new scrapbook! I’ll never forget anything here- not you guys or our adventures. Oh, wait.” He lowered his scrapbook and took out the memory gun, which still somehow survived, and threw it on the ground. He crushed it with everything he had- which was quite a bit. Fiddleford whooped. Everyone else laughed and cheered with him. “ _Now_ I’ll never forget you.”

          Stanley and Stanford looked at each other and blew out the candles. Dan came up behind them and hooked his arms around them in a hug. “I now declare you: technically teens!”

          The other teens whooped and chanted, “One of us! One of us! One of us!”

          Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland, both hands on an old canon, set it off with a whoop.

          Fiddleford looked between them. “How do you feel?”

          Stanford shrugged. “Kinda the same.”

           “But kinda different at the same time!” Stanley agreed with a boastful smirk.

           “Hey!” Preston, who was still by his mom, called their attention. “Open your presents already. I gave myself a paper cut wrapping them.”

          Stanley, with Stanford, laughed. “Preston.” The twins picked up the nearest two presents they could find out of the horde around them.

 

          Later that evening, all was still. No party-goers invaded the Shack and no souls dwelled within. The late sun sent streaks of light and color through the empty attic. As if in a dream, the Mystery Shack stood with a might and power it hadn’t held for over thirty years. The forest went on strong and peaceful as ever. The town buzzed with dull, early evening light.

          Stanley and Stanford, donned in pink sweaters stitched with words, stood at the bus stop. Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Dan, Hank, Nick, Waddles, and Gompers stood with them.

           “Ugh!” Nick groaned. “Do you have to leave? There’s still lots of things we haven’t done!”

          Stanley nodded and put a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda. Summer’s over.”

          Hank frowned. “Man, it just went by so fast.” He smiled. “You guys better be coming back soon.”

          Stanley put a finger on his chin. “I dunno. I mean, we have a busy schedule being teens, but _maybe._ ”

          Fiddleford stood by Stanford and held his hand tight in his own. “Hey, Ford. I… we had a really fun summer.” He gave him a crooked smile. “It’s been really great having you over.”

          Stanford chuckled. “Yeah, well… it’s been awesome being here, too. But we’ll come back.” He nodded his head sharply. “I’ll make sure of it.”

          Fiddleford grinned. “You better!” He hooked his arm around him and gave him a light kiss. “I don’t want people thinkin’ your imaginary, now.”

          Stanley put Fiddleford in a headlock. “No way, man!”

          Fiddleford gasped and struggled out. “Hey!”

          Stanley laughed uproariously. “You’re never gunna change, are you?”

          Fiddleford rubbed his neck, though he couldn’t put down the smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Glad to see you’re wearing my good-bye sweater, Lee.” She indicated the pink sweater with the words “GOODBYE” stitched on the chest. Stanford wore one similar.

          Stanley shrugged. “It’s kinda chilly out. I had to.”

          Dan knelt in front of the boys. “Hey, you mean a lot to me, dudes.” He held out his hand.

          Stanley fist-bumped him. “You, too.”

          Dan pulled off his red beanie and fit it over Stanley’s head. “If you’re wearing Mabel’s sweater, you’re taking something of mine, too!”

          Stanley fitted the beanie over his head and grinned. He reached under the sweater, unpinned his Holy Mackerel pin, and stuck it on Dan’s plaid shirt. “You, too, dude.”

          Dan laughed and pulled out a paper. “Hey: to remember us by.” Stanford took the folded paper. “Read it next time you miss us.”

          The bus pulled up. The doors opened with a _hiss_. “Last bus leaving Gravity Falls. All aboard.”

          Stanley sighed. “Welp. Guess we said goodbye to everyone.”

           “Yeah,” Stanford agreed. “Everyone but…” His eyes fell on the baby, one-horned goat by Waddles. “Gompers.” Gompers bounded up to him and looked up. Stanford got down on one knee and sighed. “I… well, Gompers I’m sorry. But Dad won’t let us have pets so they won’t let me bring a goat to New Jersey. So…” He shut his eyes tight. “-you’re just going to have to stay here.”

          Gompers bleated and, sensing his distress, bit the sleeve of his shirt.

           “Gompers, please,” Stanford whined and took his shirt out of the goat’s grasp. “You’re gunna stay here. I don’t know how else to say it.”

          Grauntie Mabel’s gaze grew hard. “Oh, you know what? Forget it! I’ve had to deal with this little chomper all summer. It’s your parents’ turn.” She plucked Gompers off the ground, marched over to the bus, and set him down on the top of the stairs. “This here goat is going with these boys.”

          The Bus Driver leaned toward her and pointed to the “no animals” sign. “Now, hold on a second. Bringing animals about a moving vehicle is strictly prohibited by-” He cut himself off. Grunkle Dipper moved his coat back a bit to reveal one of multiple ray guns he kept on him at all times. Grauntie Mabel curled her hands into fists. Both older twins gave him a dark look.

           “W-wah… w-w-welcome aboard,” the bus driver’s tune changed in an instant. “You can sit in the front row, goat.”

          Grauntie Mabel stepped back so that she was in front of the kids. She got down on one knee and set her gaze. “Kids, you little gremlins were a wreck to the house and the best thing that’s happened to us in years.”

          Stanley and Stanford immediately let go of their bags and launched themselves at her in a tight hug. “Ugh!” Stanley grunted. “We’ll miss you, too!”

          Grauntie Mabel held them at arm’s length. “We’re a phone-call away, okay? Remember that. Or an e-mail. Hey.” She grew serious. “You have your train tickets, right? And your bus tickets?”

           “Yes, Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford and Stanley responded, exasperated after the thirteenth time they were asked.

           “And you brought those snacks I gave you, right? And–”

           “We got it!” Stanley interrupted.

           “We’ll be fine,” Stanford agreed.

          Grauntie Mabel sighed and smiled. “You better be. Or I’ll march right up to wherever-you-are and make sure you are! Don’t think I won’t!” She got up and ruffled the boys’ hair before standing back.

          Stanford picked up his wheeled bag and met Stanley by the entrance. “You ready?”

          Stanley took a deep breath. “Nope.” He stared at the bus. “Let’s do this.”

          As they settled down in the bus, they turned their gaze out. The bus started to move. The crowd waved and chased the bus. Stanley waved and yelled, “Bye! We’ll miss you!”

           “Bye!” Stanford called. “I’ll miss you, too! Bye!”

          The crowd followed until the bus got too fast too far to continue. For a while, the crowd stayed and watched them go. Grunkle Dipper set a hand on Grauntie Mabel’s shoulder and smiled.

 

          The boys watched Gravity Falls disappear behind them as they drove off. Stanford watched as multiple gnomes stacked themselves up on the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign and wave at their passing. _“If you’ve ever taken a road trip through the Pacific Northwest, you’ve probably seen a bumper sticker for a place called Gravity Falls. It’s not on any maps, and most people have never heard of it. Some people think it’s a myth. But if you’re curious, don’t wait. Take a trip. Find it. It’s out there, somewhere in the woods. Waiting.”_

          The sun dipped farther below the horizon. Gompers slept on Stanford’s lap and Stanley, out of it and tired, leaned on his brother as well. Stanford took out the folded letter Dan gave them and opened it. “See you next summer” was scrawled upon it. Everyone’s signatures, along with a few small phrases, decorated it. Stanford smiled and looked out the window.

          The days were going to get chillier. The next winter would be colder than the last. They’d grown softer around their great aunt and more adventurous. But the summer caused a change in the boys. Something bloomed within them, something their father suppressed and nearly killed. But no winter’s cold and nothing on anyone’s end could stop the changes the boys had gone through. Gravity Falls was part of them, now. The sun would shine over the pieces of their souls the boys had left behind and would soon come to reclaim.

          The future was coming for them all. ~

 

AN’F LLX WHQ GJ MZY **Y** AR **X**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done. Bill has been vanquished. The people _sunset_ have won. Gravity Falls is going back to normal. Actually, better than normal. Humans live alongside monsters, now. Instead of hunting them down or trying to forget, humans and monsters get along. Ugh. I cried writing Mabel's scene and I do every time I have to edit it. So, another reason I'm glad to have this pinned up! Haha Goodness. I _vigenère_ have so many memories tied to writing this old thing. Writing is my favorite art form. I remember it. In real life, I don't have a good memory at all. I forget a lot of things- more than I should. But writing... won't. I won't forget my writing. Enjoy it! I was so tempted to put this up on Saterday. Ugh! Haha
> 
> Fun Fact: This chapter is roughly 25.6% memory regaining (From when Stan won't allow them to give up down to Robbie and Tambry are in the cemetery) and I have no regrets whatsoever.  
> Fun Fact: I wrote Mabel losing her memory before I was finished with Season One.  
> Fun Fact: The sweater was originally much older. In the backstory where Mabel was kicked out as a teen, she'd been knitting that sweater to congratulate Dipper on his new apprenticeship/college. After being kicked out, she kept it with her. In this instance, she'd been making it to congratulate him on the portal. In both instances, she decided to stop working on the sweater until she and Dipper reunited.  
> Fun Fact: I was originally planning on splitting this chapter into two: "Weirdmaggedon Part Three: Take Back the Falls" and "Weirdmaggedon Part Four: Somewhere in the Woods". I decided against it. It is now the longest chapter I've ever written at 63 pages long. Chapters for this story average at ~20 pages. Chapters in my original stories average at ~10 pages.  
> Fun Fact: In future projects, I'll be using Vigenère more often and I'll be using Acrostic instead of just italicizing the keyword in the end notes. So, if you follow any more of my work, look out for that! In fact, "Farmer's Blood" (A Skyrim journal story) has a code hidden in it through an Acrostic-esc code.  
> Fun Fact: It was originally going to be Pacifica who was the lama, but I decided against it. I thought Preston would learn more.
> 
> I'd normally put in a story about how much I love this show/why I made this story. But, I'm not done yet. I'll let my stories speak for themselves. I'm working on more projects, so I'm not dead. See you all in the next story, and good luck, fellow Fallers! It's been honor to contribute to the fandom. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting Monday, Wednesday, Friday!


End file.
